


Teaching the Devil

by TheTentacleCommander



Series: The Devil's Saga [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance | BSAA, Crack, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Dark Crack, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Flashbacks, Human Experimentation, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Monsters, Morally Ambiguous Character, Not a Love Story, Old work, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Predator/Prey, Psychological Trauma, Story Arc, Tentacle Monsters, Teratophilia, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13153071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTentacleCommander/pseuds/TheTentacleCommander
Summary: "...No man can tell What has come stealthily creeping over his life Until too late Hot ashes and pain..."The first arc in The Devil's Saga.Based on Dante's Inferno (the inverted significance will become clearer during the ending of a mostly Jill centric fic - she will be a bit OOC even crossing the moral event horizon, but it'll be warranted)An AU fic set a year after the events of RE5. Deals with the finding of an apparently revived then abandoned Nemesis in a forgotten underground Umbrella lab. In recovery, it was determined his directives were irreparably damaged giving him 'free will'. Whether that is good or bad is questionable.Jill is still dealing with the aftermath of her part in her forced servitude to Wesker - making her darker and at times mentally and emotionally unstable. Despite her hangups, she still works with the BSAA and was suddenly entrusted with the care and 'training' of a restrained Nemesis.What results of such an arrangement is documented here. This will explore darker themes and topics: it will basically not shy away from nor sugarcoat the violent or suggestive situations within.





	1. Teaching the Devil - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> " " = speech  
> ' ' = speech occurring in dreams/memories

**Prologue**

**BSAA bunker. Location xx. Date xx, xx, 20xx**

A man and a woman both in fatigues walk across the middle floor of the bunker entrenched in a short briefing. The pair walked through the plain hall where the BSAA offices sat, meager rooms converted into makeshift workspaces and for a few housing. They traverse the grimy floors down a hall that only contained matching plain doors, none different from the other. At the end of the hall, a circular common area opened up linking the many halls (or rabbit holes as they jokingly called them) in the bunker.

"So Unit 5 and 7 have found another abandoned lab. Umbrella, they're like roaches, kill the original colony and find more ages later."

"Yea. About that find. We found mostly documents, half completed and certifiably deceased specimens."

"So what's with the face?"

"Well…one was definitely not deceased. It was in stasis."

"Has it been terminated?"

"No."

"Josh, you know that's standard procedure for BSAA search missions. We do not need a terrorist group with a hungry eye to use those things against us!" The platinum blond fingered her long hair, a nervous habit she picked up over the year. She was still coming to terms with her changes in appearance; getting a hair cut was not a massive priority in her day to day.

"Well. It's not that we didn't try as much as the files describing it made mention of only one serious attempt to destroy it – by you. But since they were able to acquire its dormant body from a nuclear strike…I highly doubt our normal methods would even dent it."

"Dormant? Recovered…where are those files? I need to see the proof with my own eyes…if you're talking of what I think you are that's not possible!"

"We can show you even bigger proof…we sedated it and brought it here." Josh lead them towards a darker lit hall, one that looked to be less traveled than the others. There were no rooms here, just a blank hall with an elevator at the other end.

"What!? Why? That bastard isn't like other B.O.W.s-"

"We know. It took out like half of unit 7 in sedating it."

"Why even risk the lives of those people, Josh!"

"Because as you said we BSAA do not leave behind any B.O.Ws. And since we could not destroy it-"

"You brought it here. What do you plan on doing with such a thing? You know that especially that model will only grow immune to whatever you're putting it down with?"

"The files also noted that its directives were wiped clean due to heavy damage. Umbrella never got around to imputing new ones."

"So he's a clean slate."

"Well as clean as to directives. His…its instincts and possible memories look to be intact." Josh swiped his ID card into the slot beside the elevator. The area they were heading into was highly secured; having just anyone wander down to where they were heading would only get them killed. Only the highest ranking operatives have the highest clearance to get down here. Many BSAA joked how Umbrella like this cloak and dagger was. Jill now was beginning to think that they were just a hair away from it - with what Josh was telling her what they had down there currently.

"So what you guys plan to do, teach it like a dog? Play fetch?"

"In a sense."

"Josh….That thing in there isn't stupid! It tracks people, hunts them, takes them out! It's built for that express purpose and you guys hope to tame it like some pet? The BSAA hasn't used B.O.W's for their missions before and I see no reason why suddenly things change because of this one! Whoever teaches it will be ripped to shreds the moment it smells fear!"

The two entered the elevator, riding it down, all the while continuing their heated conversation.

"I wasn't going to just send anyone, Jill. You of all of us have the most hands-on experience with it. You know how its mind works, you know its tactics…. We have also inserted a sort of shock collar using a modified P30 on its spinal column."

"So you didn't call me to brief me on the find, you are grabbing me to play teacher with it? That thing killed Brad, and God knows how many other people in that burning city!"

The elevator dropped them a few floors underground; the reasoning that if the prisoners that were housed here ever got out, the shaft was designed to lock from the upstairs, effectively trapping what horror was caged here away from the populace. Thankfully most captives were not of such level of threat, and so the area was rarely used. The hall was now nothing but pure rock, the floor dirt.

But as Josh and Jill walked down the dirt floor they knew that they may need this safety feature at any time.

The sound of the elevator opening again caught the other two by surprise. A second man came rushing up beside the two, a look of anger crossing his well-built features. "You don't have to do this Jill. I told them how insane this was. And pushing you into a closed room with it – that's inhumane Josh!"

"Chris, know I wouldn't do this unless it was for a greater benefit. It's a devil's bargain to be sure, but this could help more than hurt in the long run! Maybe you can get it to be docile, obedient! That and so far it doesn't …respond to anyone. It just sits, listless-"

"Because it's waiting. I was the last person it saw before I put it down. It's only fair I give it what it wants. Where is it being held?"

Chris grabs her arm, "Jill you don't have to-"

"But I want to." She shifts her arm, knocking back her former partner's hand. Chris hangs back, the look of worry clearly on his face.

The three walk to the lower reaches of the place, arriving at a well-guarded area where a well-built containment unit sat. It was built to contain prisoners, criminals sent to face the justice system of their respective countries. Some of the criminals were no longer human but could slip into society like Wesker, so the cell was heavily modified to contain humans as well as those that crossed that divide. It was windowless, to prevent the abuse of them as a weak point in escape attempts.

The White Room. The room called because of its interior was almost a mythical word on the lips of the other operatives. The code word brought uneasiness, it's purpose known to most. Despite the stark white of the door, there was nothing pleasant on the other side.

Jill let out a small breath calming her nerves, clearing her mind before using her ID to open the door. Josh and Chris merely stood back in case the monster inside decided to make a break for it – both knowing that if it did they would be as good as dead. She walked in the door slowly closing behind her.

The room was blindingly white, with the walls, floor, and ceiling padded. This was to prevent the prisoner from using the room itself as a weapon against the staff or themselves. The only furniture was a small chair on the leftmost wall, and a bed on the right in which a figure sat, leather clothing it's inhumanly tall frame. The tall creature stood out starkly, its head bowed over as if in a sort of prayer. Its eye was closed, but she was sure it knew from the moment she stepped in that she was there.

She merely sat across from the figure, keeping her breathing even. She studied its face, a mere couple of feet away from her. The room seemed so small, or maybe it was merely that the Tyrant by association made everything so small in comparison. The same stitches, the same lipless grin, the outfit that Umbrella decided to recreate to fit its form. It was if time had stopped for it, a spitting image of the monstrosity in Raccoon. No, the same one, that now chose to ignore her.

"I know you aren't asleep. I know you are very aware that I'm here. But if we're going to have this conversation, at least look up at me." It wasn't that she wanted to look at him directly as much as she felt odd talking to the top of his head. Yes… _he_. It felt weird to talk to an 'it'; she could afford to give _it_ , err _he_ a pronoun. The only consolation she will allow herself to give to this wretched creature.

The monster barely shifted, only opening his one pupil-less eye, the eye color of the dead - but yet he was still of the living. But even without eye color, she knew she held his attention.

"You know, you're causing quite a stir. What with us finding you, all intact taking a nap…seems you don't like being woken up. Then after throwing a fit we still take you in! A regular golden boy we have here!" Jill couldn't keep the sarcasm from lacing her voice.

"Do you know why you're here?" The tall monster just shifted on the much too small bed.

"Oh I forgot, you can't talk. Good. I enjoy having a one-sided conversation. I hope you know how to use your head don't you?" The monster slowly nods forward in an affirmative.

"Oh good. I'd hate to think I was dealing with a not just a killer, but a lower functioning one." She caught the barely checked gripping of his hands on the mattress, his huge knuckles turning white.

"Oh is the big guy getting mad? I'd hate to think I'm angering our guest. You see they want me to teach you. Funny I know. Teach you your ABCs, maybe how to count, maybe even how to bark like a dog!" Her voice had dipped into a hiss her repressed anger coming unbidden.

"And maybe, just maybe you'll be able to kill something half your size...cause", her voice dipping low, "we don't cater to failures here." He sat up now, staring plainly at her, the cracking of the bed frame audible. She rises from the small chair, a smirk crossing her pale face.

"Keep looking at me…it's your fault I look this way you know." She shifts the chair aside staring directly into his face. "I hope you at least do a good barking impression. That S.T.A.R.S. bit got old the first hour, you fucking bastard!"

As the last syllable came from her lips she found herself pinned against the wall, the Tyrant easily having three feet on her. He bent lower, his face level with hers, letting out a deep, angry snarl. Jill stood her ground. "I can see it. You want to finish the job, don't you? Don't you?!" He stood over her, palms flat against the wall trapping her head between them.

"Do it."

He narrowed his eye at her. "Do it. Be a good monster and finish what you start…its only fair since I lost two years of my life because of you! Do it!" She openly laughed at him. Enraged the Tyrant went to punch her face in…and found everything flashing white as the feeling of being electrocuted racked through him. It felt like every fiber of his being was being rent apart, the only sound in the room was of her laughter and his pained scream.

As soon as it began, it stopped, the monster gasping for air, drool freely trailing from his gaping mouth. She walked to him, letting a soft hand trail his stapled scalp. "See things never changed for you. But I have just as dirty hands now. And I won't show mercy, just like you." The monster only snarled weakly upwards at her, wanting to strike but knowing it futile.

"School starts, _now_." The only sounds now were of his labored breathing, and her walking out of the room.


	2. Teaching the Devil - 1 Betrayal

**Betrayal**  
  
Work kept them at bay…but once all assignments were finished, all paperwork was filed, all persons accounted for; her mind again turns to the past. It turns inward revisiting events, places, villages, victims. Victims that screamed out for mercy, that came to her in aid, in broken promises. Her body, how it turned on her…it turned from the path of good and heroics to follow that man's siren song…but did it really? What if deep down, she was just like him? The very strength of character that had her deal with the elements of biological warfare was now keeping her emotions together on a tenuous thread.   
  
All for that gratifying utterance of, 'Task complete.'  Her task complete as a villager succumbs to a parasite; complete, as another village falls to outside machinations that consumed it whole. That day when she saw her 'team leader' for who he truly was in the mansion, the angry rage that boiled up then paled in comparison to the contempt she felt for herself now. Her mind, how it screamed, begged for this hell to end. But all she could say was, 'Task complete, Wesker.'  
  
She focused her thoughts now, steeling her mind. Weakness cannot happen in here. She decided to humor Josh, not really for the BSAA as much as she wanted to look down on the source of her current misery. Even though the modified item on his spine kept him at bay, she knew not to depend on it solely. She knew the irony of him wearing what she a year ago – but told herself the bastard deserved it.   
  
_Monsters don't pity. Monsters don't understand mercy. Monsters don't understand humility or adversity. Monsters do not understand remorse._

 _Monsters don't guilt – they just kill. Indiscriminately._    
  
This became her mantra, the thoughts that filled her mind as she walked to the containment cell.   
  
This monster though understands rage, and vengeance, with sadism riding alongside them. This monster is not innocent or just programmed; he knew what he did and enjoyed his game. To turn it on him would be only divine retribution. She internally grinned, knowing that at least there was someone, anyone that she could focus all  _this_  on.   
  
Again, he sat, seemingly observing a spec of lint on the small bed. It was a miracle the thing could even support his weight, but like a balancing act, he sat. And again like last time, he didn't look up. She calmly snapped her fingers, the creature numbly looking up. "What you're looking at? Something actually interesting or just thumbing around for a loose buckle?" He looked at her blankly, her sarcastic statement clearly not of interest.  
  
She had brought in an envelope containing pictures. The idea seemed rather stupid, but she wasn't about to drag him outside for any missions. Not yet. She needed to test his reasoning skills. As she dumped them all out, the glossy film caught his eye. The pictures were blown up to fully show each subject; each photo depicted various people and monstrosities.  
  
"Look." She held up the first picture. "I assume you have great skill at memorizing faces. Here's a picture of the BSAA squad. Don't kill. Nod if you understand." The tall creature nodded forward. She held up a second picture of an infected, displaying symptoms of advanced zombification. "Do kill. Understand?" Another affirmative nod.  
  
"Now, I'm going to show a bunch of pictures. Based on the two pictures I've just shown you, you will nod 'yes' for kill, and 'no' for don't kill. Understand?" She looked to see him give another nod. This game isn't hard. If anything it wasn't the worry that he'd fail it as much as…would he stick with the lessons involved?  
  
"Anyway, look." The third picture depicted a boy, playing with a small car on a house porch. A shake denoting no came from the Tyrant. "Good."  
  
A picture of a plagas infected villager got the response of yes.  
  
A picture of Chris got no.  
  
A picture of a Hunter type B.O.W. got yes.  
  
A picture of a person with a TriCell tag got a no. "Correct. These people as much as I loathe them, are not to be killed. They are to be taken into custody. Got it?" Another affirmative.  
  
A picture of a standard class Tyrant. A tentative look; then a yes. "Do you fear killing your own kin?" No. "Why the hesitation?" He points to it, then to himself. "Well I don't expect you to kill yourself."  _Though the idea would be hilarious_ , she maliciously thought. "Put it this way, if it's a B.O.W. it gets put down." A forward nod.  
  
"Now another." A picture of herself, holding out a gun. This wasn't in itself odd as much as it was an old picture of herself from the day she escaped Raccoon.  At this, the Tyrant sat, obviously mulling over it. "What now? Do you wish to kill a civilian?" A No. "Then what of it?" She tried hard to hide the grin forming on her face. It seems old habits die hard with this one. "Or you just wish to kill  _her_?"  
  
At this, he looked up directly into her eyes, the look that belied hesitation. Tyrants are not known to be manipulative creatures, at least not the ones from Umbrella.  _Why lie when you can destroy things without a moment's hesitation?_  Jill wondered if a Tyrant was ever required in its lifespan  _to_  lie? "Tell me, I'd like to know what you would in honest do to this woman."   
  
He sat, letting out a low growl, but staying in place. The look of hesitation was now replaced with irritation – he had clearly now figured out that she was fucking with him. Again.  
  
"What, you have nothing to say? What if this woman was on your team? How can she trust you if you can't settle on what if any reaction you'll have towards her? Or are you one of those that wait till a back is turned?"  
  
She could see him visibly work his jaw, staring intently at her. He was too easy to work up. Too easy to anger.  _And Josh seriously thought this was going to work?_  "What's wrong, does the idea of working with her bother you? Here look closer." She pushes the picture, flinging it directly into his face. A deep snarl was all she heard as the picture was ripped quickly in half.   
  
"Ah. That was a great shot too, escaping that hell hole that you apparently could not. Well, instead of pictures how about this. Me. Kill or no?" She grinning deeply, seeing him merely glare at her. "Oh come on? Decisions of life and death hinge on your choices here. Kill or no?" She walked the small distance between them against her better judgment. "Since you got to look at that one up close, why don't you look at me? Examine. See if I'm with an infection or wear any notable tags."  
  
She was now directly in front of him, leaning downwards in a posture that of a scolding teacher. He barely moved; a tentative, large finger reached out, touching the long blond tresses that were in a loose ponytail hanging off her shoulder. His eye never left her face. His other hand reached to almost cup her face the movement slow, deliberate.   
  
Jill placed her hands on his shoulders, whispering down to him, "Kill or no."  
  
He faintly cupped her face; before pushing forward lightly with his right foot. She found herself flung bodily to the other side of the padded room, the once stoic Tyrant writhing in full bodily pain as the thing on his spine activated, punishing him for it. The B.O.W. was busily convulsing, the creak of his trench coat audible as his large frame arched in pained angles. She had pushed herself to the padded wall, avoiding his larger limbs flailing in all directions.  
  
Jill panted, winded by his outburst. "Seems you don't lie, but would rather dodge the question. Or is flinging me away your answer?" The shock had as quickly started, ended; barely recovered he was shakily trying to sit up. His face belied rage and nothing but. "So your answer is 'kill'."   
  
_At least I know what to expect. At least he won't let me down. Or stab me in the back. He'd rather punch me in the front._  
  
"Oh. Realize that was a trick question. I was in the BSAA photo, remember?" He unsteadily nods. "So by default, I'm a no-kill target.  _Regardless of what you want_." A weak growl came, but he sat back on the bed, the look of resignation apparent.   
  
"Well, it seems our time today is up. I'd suggest you commit all that to memory if you'd like your stay to be more  _pleasant_." He merely curls into the bed, turning his back away from her showing he was no longer interested in what she had to say.  She shrugs off the slight, walking out.


	3. Teaching the Devil - 2 Fraud

**Fraud**  
  
She stared at her insignia many times. Sometimes out of making sure it's neatly placed, but mostly out of incredibility. She felt uncomfortable wearing it. The BSAA was created to counter bioterror in all its forms. Yet she was a major component in one of the most serious attempts on bioterror in recent history.   
  
And when it all seemed to be over, when that blond traitor, that man with his alien eyes screamed up in rage – she had every opportunity to take revenge then. She had it, the launcher in her hands. But it was to be  _them_ , not her, saving the world.  _This was their moment, not hers_ , she reasoned. She reasoned this chance away as she half halfheartedly hands them the rocket launchers. Maybe she just didn't have it in her to do the deed herself. Or was too ashamed to face the fact that she was too weak to do it.   
  
 _I'm no hero._    
  
She should at least be happy for them. But she can barely muster a smile anymore. It's her fault for the state of things. How could she expect Chris to understand what she had been through? They tried after the incident to reconnect, to be what they were before her 'death'. But she just couldn't. That Jill Valentine indeed did die. This Jill, this blond pale freak is just an imitation. Everyone lived, grew, changed in the two years of time she never had. To explain these feelings on top of what she exactly did under Wesker's 'care' – it was too painful, too much. She could never grow close to anyone; no one in their unit or outside it could understand. And so with her growing distance from him (and everyone else), their brief reunion was just that. Brief and painful as their once close bond since their rookie days deteriorated. She retreated into her own world; he to Sheva.  
  
 _I'm an imitation, playing at hero – but no one has caught on yet._  
  
She surmised that she could go talk to someone, but it's one thing to talk about saving lives or a death in the family; to explain out her circumstances just seemed too out there, too taxing. That and she had work to do. The terrorists around the world do not sleep; the bio terrors of the world won't wait.  
  
 _Monsters don't understand adversity._  
  
And this one, of anyone here, would be the only soul that could even comprehend what she feels right now. She walked into the now familiar white room, seeing him, this time looking up.  _Did he finally learn to address her correctly?_  She mentally took note of the door as she again closed it. She knew that both Josh and Chris hated that she did this, but in her mind having the door open would just give him the chance to escape unopposed.  
  
The P30 that was attached to him was sort of like the directives that were programmed inside him. It was able to be programmed before insertion to react if certain impulses were detected towards BSAA staff. The placement was placed mainly to make it harder for him to reach it with hand or tentacle without the thing reacting. That and a direct shock to that area seemed to produce the most pain and deterrent factor. The P30 reacted to physical impulses, i.e. acts of physical violence, acts that require one to injure or to harm another. This included anything that broke the skin, caused pain, or registered physical discomfort from the other.    
  
She walked to her chair ready to begin another session with him. His eye trailed across her face as if he were searching it. Admittedly the extra scrutiny was off-putting. But she stomached it down keeping her face neutral. She casually asked, "What? Is there something you wish to tell me?"   
  
He pointed to his back. She noted the extra scrapes on the wall, obvious that he had attempted many times to pull it off and failed. "Oh. Do we have to put on a doggie flea collar? You'll burn yourself out trying to pull that off." He grunted, clearly irate with it. "No, I'm not taking it off. You have yet to prove you can behave with it." She sighed, having to explain the obvious was a test of her own patience.  
  
He then sat back quietly on the bed, still watching her intently. "Are we done asking stupid questions? Good. Let's begin-"  
  
She slowly began to sit when almost instantly she found herself pinned to the opposite wall. She barely had time to breathe, the alarming speed in which he did it still not registering fully in her mind. His larger palms were on either side of her face, the shock evident on her face. He had kneeled low enough to stare at her in the face, an almost smug look of satisfaction crossing his monstrous face. But what truly registered with her was the loophole her present company had figured out.  
  
Being nearby someone does not trigger the P30. He had her pinned in an obvious aggressive stance but had not physically touched nor harmed her in the process. He had used her closeness to the wall and her involuntary backing of herself to said wall to his advantage. His left leg did not touch her but kept her from merely ducking up under him.   
  
The mere fact that he could regardless of the attachment do this deep down unnerved her. He leaned forward and to the side, heavily breathing, clearly enjoying that she was physically trapped like this.  
  
 _A show of power. That's all this was. A show._  
  
"So you caught me off guard. What to do now? Stand here and see who moves? A hug it out session? You can't do anything but roll in my face – " He leaned his left arm onto the wall, letting his large hand barely cup her face, lightly covering her mouth. The sound of him sniffing was heard.   
  
  
 _Enough._  
  
  
She used her shoulder and bodily used his own weight to push him back. The larger creature instinctively fought this, reaching forward to grab her. This  _did_  trigger the P30 causing the now familiar punishment to rack his body. The also familiar glint of rage returned. Even though that shock, he let out an angry roar as he ran at her again before a split second later falling back to the ground as a second shock rocked him, his eyelid fluttering spasmodically with the added layer of pain.  
  
She wanted to yell at him, to scream at him, but all she could muster was a bit of –  _No. Monsters don't pity_. But seeing him borderline comatose from the stance he just held seconds ago was startling. He was on his back, his form sprawled in all directions. She kneeled beside his head, seeing that his eye was still moving, his face turning to her direction, a trail of drool pooling from his open mouth.   
  
"I was arrogant to think that Umbrella would let me be in Raccoon, investigating their horror without rebuke. The role you played in that, I cannot fault you." She softly whispered. "But in trying to play me, trying to get around security measures put in place, every bit of the pain, suffering, and loss you feel now, you brought on yourself. No more plotting, you understand?"  
  
A barely registerable nod came from him, as she softly rose and walked out the room leaving him to fall unconscious. As she closed the reinforced door, she sat down on the floor, her brave face falling, already mentally tired – and internally scared at the implications that episode brought up.


	4. Teaching the Devil - 3 Violence

**Violence**  
  
It had been weeks since the BSAA squad had found and sedated the Tyrant known as Nemesis from an abandoned Umbrella holding tank. Even though many of the residents were unnerved; even angered by the decision to bring it here, that uproar died to only be replaced by a new one.  
  
After weeks of 'training' under Operative Valentine, the decision to take it out on a test mission was greeted outright with hostility. Many squads flat out refused to be involved in what was increasingly seen as a monstrous joke. Jill personally could not blame them. After years of fighting these increasingly harder to kill creatures, why would one want to fight alongside them? She herself was questioning her own logic in participating in such – then buried her doubt as she neared the room.   
  
She brushed her left pocket feeling the large syringe full of sedative; or 'Invidia' as it was named by TriCell. They had appropriated the stuff after a full-scale raid on one of their labs years back. After discerning from scattered notes and analyzing the stuff itself, the BSAA had manufactured it to use in future operations to great effect. In her case, she kept it on her person at all times. The Tyrant in the white room while not attempting to jump her again weeks since, had made it clear he would eventually out think the deterrent. The Invidia was proven to nearly knock out most Tyrant class B.O.W.s within minutes; at least if it came to that she would have a fighting chance at escape. At least she hoped.  
  
Again she pushed those thoughts aside and used her ID card to open the familiar door. His lone eye met hers, already sitting up alert. She was dressed in full fatigues, and armed to bear, ready for today's mission.   
  
"I hope your ready for some air – today we're going on a field trip. If you behave, there may be more in your future."  He looked up at her with something akin to excitement. She had over the weeks prepped him for this day, hoping he'd catch on.   
  
"But. That's only  **if**  you behave." She looked at him, letting her doubt show. An almost look of defiance came across his face before it disappeared as quickly as it came. Most observers (if they could stand to be this close to him at all) wouldn't note the minute changes in expression, but over time Jill had gotten used to the monster's mannerisms, his reactions and had become rather adept at figuring him out. This came in handy in judging his moods and intentions.   
  
This, of course, meant that she would be the one 'chaperoning' this little excursion.   
  
"Get up. We have a long day ahead." The tall darkly clothed creature walked to the door making no hostile movements. He was not cuffed but she knew for now he would listen. As she closed her door, she and her new 'partner' went outside to the vans.   
  
As she and the Tyrant walked outside, the few BSAA that hung around scattered, wanting nowhere near the tall thing that walked alongside Ms. Valentine. People looked on with mixed looks of horror, disgust, rage; all of them masking their internal fear. They approached a black van, covered in a few scratches but otherwise non-descript. Vans did not have anything identifying on them to make it less of a target for assassination attempts. The monster barely fit in the back of the van, the back seat allowing him to sit but forcing him to bow forward or lean back pushing his long legs out. Jill had foreseen this having most of their weaponry in a second van. That van had driven ahead a few minutes ago to rendezvous at the hot spot located a few hours away.   
  
Normally BSAA tend to be more migratory, not keeping any specific home bases (save for safe houses) so that not one location can be pinpointed and cause casualties due to if being found out. In fact most of the crew save for Chris, Josh and herself were temporary. This specific base was kept solely for dangerous captives like the one sitting quietly in the back seat. Sheva did stop by but she normally did intelligence in the field, finding out coordinates for any new labs, hotbeds of infection, terrorist hideouts and so on.  
  
As it was, the team in this mission consisted of only her, Josh driving, the Tyrant in the back, and Misa driving the second van with James as her passenger. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him, staring intently back at her, his large fingers fidgeting on the seat.   
  
 _It was going to be a long day._    
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
4 hours later their van had reached the rendezvous with Misa's van. They had parked on the outskirts of a seemingly sleepy small town. The group slid out of their respective vans, the larger B.O.W. getting out last. He stood, popping the kinks out of his near 9-foot frame. Everyone save for Jill had kept distance, still unnerved that this B.O.W. was right up on them.   
  
Despite this, the group started to walk the mile trek towards the town.  
  
"What's the story here, James?" Josh prompted. "Infected; terrorist activity?"   
  
"Supposed hostage situation." He replied, "Seems that group responsible for the outbreak two towns over the last month have threatened to repeat what happened. They have a TriCell informant hostage as well."  
  
"Great; it gets messy before it has even started," Josh remarked. "Jill, you ready?"   
  
"Yeah." She looked towards the large creature, searching his face. He had stood there quietly through the short exchange.  _I assume he caught that…_  Jill kept her eye on him, wary, but keeping her calm demeanor.   
  
Misa and James had already prepped ahead of them and started to head towards the gated fence scouting the area. The three people left behind finished suiting up and hurried to catch up. The three started the walk to the town entrance the area unnaturally quiet. For a town, not a sound or any sign of life could be detected save for themselves.   
  
The place was filled with only darkness, the smell of dust and the sound of their approach echoing around them. So when the sounds of yelling suddenly hit the air, the small group were caught off guard. Before Josh knew what happened, a loud shriek from Misa rang out from her and James' location by the town entrance.   
  
"Misa! Hold on! Shit, the peo-" Jame's voice had abruptly cut off, the sound of many footsteps pelting the area. The sounds boomed closer and louder, the only thing coating the air. No voices, just movement.  
  
"James! What's going on?" Josh skidded to a stop as he clearly saw now what caused the outburst. As Misa had gone a few feet into the town, a citizen had come from nowhere, the plaga that controlled the woman bursting open the once human frame into a smattering of gore. Misa herself barely dodged in time as the plaga had swooped down attempting to impale her. James had used a few choice bullets in the parasite's skull to put the woman down, only to realize that the sleepy town had started converging towards their location.   
  
As the group approached, the townspeople could be seen in full. Their eyes fully red, skin a sickly pallor, their faces contorted in various states of rage and madness. Voices cracked in monotone muttering various things - the words unintelligible - but their raised weapons saying everything.  
  
The townspeople were no longer human. It seemed the terrorists had decided to carry out their threat early. Josh started shooting, aiming for heads trying to fend off the sudden crowd. Josh suddenly felt blood trickle down his side as a bullet entered and exited. Townspeople from the back were sniping them from afar.   
  
Jill was shooting as well, trying valiantly to give James and Misa some breathing room. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at the Tyrant… _sitting there. Just sitting there with his thumb up his ass…_  Just knowing he could and yet wasn't helping made her all the more irate with him.   
  
" **Damn it!**  Go help!" She screamed at him. The only response she got was a curt snort.   
  
"I said,  **go help**! Behave or  _this_  won't happen again!" The woman gritted her teeth. She never thought it would be worse – for him to stand around doing nothing instead of actually attacking something. Jill tried fending them off…but there was just too many for their small group. Misa tried to reload but suddenly her head was swiped clean off, the scythe-like maw of a plaga infected man cutting through her neck. Her blood fanned outwards, spray coating James who was trying to shoot through the pain in his shoulder; as a stray bullet had ripped through muscle tissue.   
  
"No! Damn you, you bastard go-" She looked and saw that the Tyrant was gone. She never heard him move. Josh was losing ground himself, finding that the entrance to the town was now well guarded by townspeople. He barely dodged a shot to his head rolling under a sign.  
  
"Jill, where the hell is it?! We could use the cover!" The sound of James' wet coated scream rang through the air, and then quickly cut short as their team dropped from five to three. Jill could only grit her teeth. They could get to the vans but they were a mile back and the infected would outrun them before either made it inside.   
  
"I-I don't know…" She had hidden behind a battered fence knowing that the cover was only postponing the inevitable. The people seeing only the two started to rush out the town. They were heading towards them; Jill and Josh both knew they could not fight such a number. She prepared another round when the sound of bones cracking rang through the air.  
  
The leather-clad Tyrant had stepped in front of the throng, a grungy portly man hanging limply in his massive right fist. The plaga infected had backed up at first not sure what to do about the newcomer. Then they began to circle around him, aiming their weapons and focused their full firepower on him. The bullets barely registered to him; meanwhile, a tentacle from under his coat lashed out and stabbed one through the neck ripping through gristle and bone.  
  
He flung the limp man in his hand through the throng, having the dead weight land on a few from the back who was trying to shoot him down. He wound his left fist punching one in the face, the woman's face caving in with her nose. What was left was an unrecognizable bloody pulp of space, any resemblance to the former angular face that occupied it previously gone. He was surrounded by at least 15 people with the number steadily dropping by his hand. One backed up trying to aim a shotgun at his stapled head; he reached out, grabbing the barrel and ripping it out of the man's hands. A swing with the same gun knocked the man down; as the stunned man tried to sit up, his head was repeatedly slammed into the butt of the gun, crushing in his skull the brain matter splattering along the gun's pommel.   
  
A thin woman's plaga ripped out of her skull attempting to behead the B.O.W.; he grabbed it with one hand and jabbed it backward ramming back into the host's torso. The crowd was thinning, most of them lying at his feet, the few that were still alive backing away into the town. One had tried to gut him; he dipped causing the sharp maw of the parasite to misaim ripping into his shoulder. He calmly ripped the flailing parasite off, tossed him to the ground before crushing the head with a heavy foot leaving a blood stain where it would have been.   
  
He stood there with an almost manic glint in his eye, blood dripping down his lipless face. He was coated in various splatters of blood and gore, his coat appearing more red than black. He slowly licked his teeth, surveying his handiwork surrounding him in various states of broken and bloody. Stepping over the bloody ring, he tilted his head up and let loose a deep guttural roar that set even the battle-hardened BSAA agents on edge. It echoed through the place as if he was declaring his judgment on this town. Lost in the heat of his own bloodlust, he rushed forward into the infected town.   
  
"Should we call for back up, Jill?" Josh was holding his side, the blood thickly staining his shirt through.  
  
"No…there's too many, and they won't come with this guy here, remember?"  
  
"I hope he can finish the job then…" Jill looked down at the right half of her comrade's side, knowing that the seeping blood loss coating his side and now down his pants leg would have to be attended to, soon. Him passing out would not help the increasingly ugly situation.  
  
"…I have no clue why he waited…stay here. Run if you have to."   
  
Josh tried to leap up, a wince showing on his face as he did so. Jill lightly motioned for him to sit back down.   
  
"Jill, where are you going? There's still too many in there…"  
  
"Someone has to babysit him, right?"  
  
Before Josh could protest further Jill had already started to tentatively follow behind the Tyrant.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
She walked into a town that was littered with a path of dead people. She had to give him credit, he was through. She had her sidearm at the ready, keeping on her toes. The trail kept going into town center; the wide open area held a small gazebo in the middle. She did not see any sign of the B.O.W. or any plaga infected in the area. As she turns around she tripped over someone who had made the underside of the gazebo their hideout.  
  
She aimed her gun at the lump, the grunt telling her that the hider was alive. Whether they were still human was to be seen.   
  
"Hello? You understand me? Get out from there with your hands up!"  
  
The form did not reply but just balled up further into the small crawl space under the gazebo.  
  
"I said get up! Come out or I'll shoot!"  
  
"Wait!" The skittish thin rail of a man rolled up, holding his pale arms up. Jill noted the disheveled coat and the tag that read off an all too familiar logo.   
  
"You are the hostage I assume?"  
  
"Yes…I'm-"  
  
"I don't need names. What the hell happened here?"   
  
"I- well I and the people here were talking out a sort of deal." The man fidgeted further as he finally saw her BSAA tags adding on to the fact that she did not lower her gun.   
  
"What kind of deal are we talking? A deal to get out of here?"  
  
"I- umm I was here to-" Before the man could finish a large roar came from the back of the town. The sound of footsteps could be heard resounding and shaking the ground with each step. She knew that the Tyrant could be loud but that sound was not coming from him.   
  
"What is that...you said nothing about bringing anything here?"  
  
"I didn't bring  _that_. That thing was once was their leader." The thin man lowered his head.  
  
"Wait, their leader willingly injected your shit into himself?"   
  
"Sort of?" Jill caught the look of deception in the man's eyes.   
  
"I cannot help if I don't know what I'm dealing with! What happened?!"  
  
The man started to ramble, the loud noise venturing closer to the two. "I-I needed to escape, and he, he wasn't happy with the deal. He said my employer was charging him too much – wasn't gonna let me go till I convinced them to lower….I just wanted to escape Miss. I just-"  
  
"So instead of waiting for help, you slipped him some of your poison!"   
  
"I just wanna- wanted to leave! You have to understand! I didn't expect this!" Her face looked over the rat-like man with disgust, her mission to save this man the last thing she wanted to do. Before she could interrogate him further, the large rumbling spilled into the town center, the large hulking creature pushing aside cars to shamble into the wide open square where now Jill and this hostage sat in the open, the gazebo the only thing between them.  
  
She gazed at the monstrosity, the former man now over a good 12 feet in height, his skin grey, musculature inhumanly bulked up in tumor-like growths across its body. Clothing barely covered the lower half of its frame finding only the remains of barely discernible pants. His maw gapped wide, full of razor-like teeth, plagas protruding from its shoulders. Its eyes were glazed over in a permanent glare of the dead, one of the few 'humanesque' things left to stare at on the completely misshapen and lopsided face. The scientist shrieked in fear, wanting to run but too terrified to move. Jill recalled a similar type mutation in Africa, but her current weapon was not going to do enough against it. But unlike the guy next to her, she would face it head-on.  
  
"We're going to die, lady! Don't stand there, shoot! Damn it shoot!"  
  
At that moment, his words...they slithered in her mind. This man. She swore he looked at her with... _No. I won't._  Jill pushed down her unease, letting a more understandable emotion rise to the surface. Anger had her lash out, "Shut up. If we're going to die then at least I won't be a coward like you."  
  
The man cringed, the verbal insult a slap to the face. The monster roared, looking straight at Jill, her gun at the ready. She steeled herself, hoping to at least slow it down some. She didn't need any other distractions right now. The monster then did a dead sprint at her…then fell face first into the ground. A purple tentacle had wrapped itself around its ankles while it was distracted. The large hulk roared its agitation turning to face the Tyrant behind it, dwarfing the latecomer easily in size and height.   
  
The hulk smashed at the Tyrant knocking him off his feet into a nearby wall. The wall cracked in protest, a demarcation in the brick being left behind. Another angry roar as it swiped at the smaller of the two. But the Tyrant had used the size difference to easily dodge the larger and had grappled the beast from behind. The plagas jutting from the shoulders tried to get at the trench coated monster, but he easily dodged their maneuvers that would have beheaded a human. The B.O.W. had forced the struggling pair back in the direction of the two humans.  
  
Then in a show of pure strength, the leather-clad monster began to squeeze. The hulking monstrosity tried to shake him off, but the Tyrant held his ground, squeezing harder, the sound of the larger beast's internal bone structures cracking under the pressure. The plaga infused monster bellowed in pain, the smaller of the two relentless.  Jill could only watch in awe, never seeing him attack something beyond humans. He was ruthless that was granted – she could not deny the almost gleeful gleam to his eye as the hulking thing in his arms had bones starting to protrude through its skin in unnatural angles. The visibly shaking man beside her could only gaze up in horror at the display.  
  
The Tyrant then pulled his hands inward in a sudden jerking motion, the monster in his arms spewing ichor through its maw. It made a high pitched screeching sound laced with it choking on its own blood to accompany the sound of its back snapping. The B.O.W. then let go, kicking the beast to the ground, a pool of dark blood ringing around its prone body. The head still registered life as its colorless eyes still moved around panicked in their sockets. He brought his boot down onto the base of the creature's spine, causing more screams of agony from the broken beast. He then moved to sit on the beast's back, the plagas that still writhed on its arms more an annoyance than a threat. Blue eyes met the lone colorless one, the eye contact between them intended by the victorious monster.   
  
He never broke the eye contact, even as he lifted the beaten monster's head; not as he had cupped underneath it with his free hand. To look away would admit weakness. Even though she wanted to. Wanted to even as he made a deep purr at her direction; even as the sickening sound of him impaling its skull traveled throughout the town. As quickly as it entered, he withdrew the tentacle, wiping the ichor that coated his hand off onto his limiter coat.  
  
 _A display of power, and restraint.  
  
He was mocking me._   
  
He tilted his head slightly forward; his teeth bared gleaming with gore and drool. A deep guttural roar came from his throat as he sat atop his conquest, still heatedly looking at Jill.  
  
 _… Their power struggle was far, far from over._  
  
The thump of the now dead beast's head hitting the ground was cut by the small noises the lab rat behind her made, the whimper finally breaking her attention from the brutal display. She looked back to the skittish man, backing up out of fear, the taller creature walking calmly towards them. "No…no, no, no…it's coming towards us!? Oh God, I don't want to die…! Lady we should run; screw being brave!"  
  
Jill merely looked at this craven man, noting a wet stain appearing and visibly running down the man's leg - only adding to her disgust and loathing of the man. The man suddenly snapped, "No…no! Fuck this, I'm running without you!" He then began to flee, leaving Jill behind.  
  
Jill looked at the man, hearing his verbal groveling as he ran-  
  
 _and saw a child begging, no screaming words that made no noise. Her head felt like it wanted to explode. The child's dark-skinned face was covered with a few tribal markings, all smeared with tears.  
  
A blink and that man was here._  
  
The approaching monster licked across his exposed canines almost gloating over the fresh satisfactory kill. Before Jill could stop herself, she aimed her gun behind herself and shot both the retreating man's kneecaps out. The Tyrant stopped mid stride the lump of skin that resembled a brow slightly arching; this action unexpected.  
  
She didn't think she just …did it…pushed by that deep seated anger coming up through her unbidden again. Rage that she normally reined in with the exception of the monster slowly walking towards them. This inky rage was beyond personal anger; it was black fury… that her fellow soldiers died-  _died trying to save this ass_! This whole town was now a ghost town because of him, that a whole town was now nothing but corpses and all this man could do was scream and beg like he was just as much a victim as them.   
  
The rage was overwhelming.  
  
She could only look at his face, his begging face and could see only death, only sunbursts with a reptilian slit within them. Those eyes are wrong, evil. Jill could feel her hands balling into fists.  
  
"Look." Jill whispered. She turned her head at the man, his knees now nothing more than shredded muscle, bone and fluid. She pointed her hand at the man like an inquisitor; calling for his damnation. The man was writhing and screaming on the ground, muttering indecipherable things in his agony. But his face...his face laughed at her, sneered at her impotent rage. He laughed as he mocked her, calling her 'Dear Heart' and-  
  
  
"Kill."  
  
  
At this the man's eyes widened. He tried to squirm away pulling his now ruined legs with his two hands, making futile furrows in the ground. "No…no, no, no…don't…want…to die…?!" The man was writhing in hysteria now both from the shots and from the larger monster coming towards him like a beast from nightmare. The Tyrant looked towards her, staring at her for a long, curious moment…But he obediently walked to the human male, looking down at the pitiful man. Then with no hesitation, he placed his gore slick boot to the man's head. The man's hair stuck to it, the hair and blood fanning out in a macabre halo. The coward looked at Jill, but no pity, none at all could be read on her face. He started to sob, the tears making rivulets down his grimy face. It sickened her even more. He has no right! He killed EVERYONE!  
  
  
 _Monsters don't understand mercy._  
  
  
"please…don't want to die…"   
  
  
 _Monsters don't understand pity._  
  
  
"PLEASE!!"  
  
  
"Shut up. Murderer." She flatly stated…and turned her back on him. The sound of soft whimpering was heard, followed by the sick wet crunch of his skull collapsing under the Tyrant's boot, and followed by stark silence. The B.O.W. wiped the brain matter onto the ground leaving a wet smear of what was left of the man's head.   
  
She walked away, washing her hands of the affair, the man no longer of interest to her. Jill flicked on and spoke into her headset, her voice an even monotone – "Mission 2394, reported as failure. Town was previously infested before arrival; infestation terminated. Valentine out." A small part of her inwardly cringed at her omission of the hostage. But as much as she wanted to - she could not muster a bit of guilt for what she had allowed her hands (or his by proxy) to do.   
  
 _I...I killed a man._  
  
There was no way he could have won.  
  
No. He was a monster. They all are. I won't pity a monster.  
  
Not even me.  
  
Monsters don't guilt - they just kill.  
  
Jill could only suck in her breath, schooling her face to look calm before telling the Tyrant behind her, "We're going back to the vans. Your field trip is over."   
  
He grunted, accenting. She was well aware that he was intently staring at her again, with an almost quizzical look. She chose to ignore it, walking towards the vans. The two walked back through the carnage, the smell of death following them. They met up with Josh, who had bandaged himself up and was currently in the driver's side of the second van. He sat, waiting for a sign that they were returning.   
  
"God Jill, you had me worried." He looked behind her to see the blood splattered B.O.W. waiting patiently behind her. "It seems it did a mess of things in there. I – was worried it would turn on you by the way it was acting."  
  
"No. If anything he seemed to just need my O.K. I guess I do have a puppy dog on my hands, huh?"   
  
She nervously laughed at her own joke, knowing that wasn't the case at all. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the subject of her jibe suppress a glare, the slight not passing the monster's observation.   
  
"You roll ahead in this van, I'll follow you back."  
  
"You shouldn't be alone with that thing."  
  
"It's ok. Go ahead. Someone has to drive these back." Josh tentatively put his hands on the steering wheel.  
  
"I'll be fine. Go." She smiled at the man, wanting him to believe that she could handle the monster on her own. Even though she deep down had her own doubts, but refused to let that show.  
  
The engine roared to life as she waved him off. She headed to the van, the monster almost like a boy scout already in the back seat.  He lay on his side, his eye lidded closed. But she wasn't fooled for a second, she knew he was awake. Creatures like him are always at the ready. She climbed into the driver's seat closing the door. The next few hours were non eventful, save for the fact that she was driving back with arguably the most dangerous creature in existence.


	5. Teaching the Devil - 4 Heresy

**Heresy**  
  
That mission was a failure in one respect - all persons were already infected. There was nothing to save, nothing but reports and numbers to show for all those lives. The only 'positive' she saw from the event was that the monster currently 'sleeping' in the back of the van had proven more than capable of town containment. But his attitude, that would have to be curbed.  
  
But the events of that day still unnerved her. Not so much that he was blatantly enjoying the violence – that was something she expected, no, assumed of his kind. No. It was this detached feeling, the cold discarding of that man. But still hours after the fact she felt nothing but numbness save for the chilling realization that she could. Could allow a man to die like trash. Even the Tyrant in his glance knew something unnatural had occurred in the order of things. But what did she expect from herself, really? She oversaw worse on a larger scale back when…  
  
The vans had been returned; the reporting of the death's of both Misa and James still rocking the other operatives. But the informant garnered nothing…Jill reached over her chest, the scars still remaining when her own collar had once rested there. She again wondered; wondered if she did what she did because it was just or-   
  
The soft breathing heard behind her cut her train of thought denoting that the monster had rolled out of the van. Josh had already packed up the second, and Jill looked upon a heavily bloodstained Nemesis.    
  
Her 'pet'.  
  
 _A good owner should make sure one's dog is clean._  "Stay put." She intoned, walking to the side of the building and returning with a hose. In the garage, the vans were kept up in working order and routinely cleaned. The blood that coated her van wouldn't bat an eye as many BSAA returned coated in worse. If at all. She hooked up the hose to the nearby water main, slowly working the pressure on.   
  
"Come here. You're filthy." His face held a glimmer of annoyance, but he came as instructed. "Kneel." Again a look of pure annoyance, but he leaned down making him closer to her height. She started spraying him over, the blood, brain matter, and other sundry fluids washing off of him in rings of dark red. She instructed him to lean forward and back the cool liquid rinsing off the last vestiges of death off of him. Despite his seemed annoyance at the matter, he seemed to start enjoying it, staring at her with sudden interest and seemingly more compliant.  
  
This went on until she was sure he was clean. She lowered the hose and went to return it when a more glaring observation caught her eye. She had her fatigues on, the top she wore layering over the combat bulletproof vest. She had sprayed liberally over him wetting herself in the process. But despite the protection, her outfit gave her, it did not unlike the Tyrant's leathers wick away water. The bastard had just dumbly stood there, staring at the now visible points on her chest. Despite this simple error on her part this only added to the growing aggravation she felt towards him since his purposely slow reaction to the earlier mission.   
  
She hid her annoyance, keeping her face calm and neutral. But she wasn't going to let it slide. Not now. Jill looked at the B.O.W. slick with water, and still kneeling as asked. She looked down at him, the monster waiting patiently for her next command.   
  
She then smiled broadly at him, a smile that held warmth and friendliness. "Did you enjoy yourself today?" She softly intoned.   
  
A slow head nod denoted that he did, in fact, enjoy his outing.  
  
"Killing must be fun, huh?" She smiled deeper, leaning a bit forward the water from her vest wicking down onto him. An almost enthusiastic yes this time.  
  
She reached a hand, gingerly stroking his scalp. Her voice lowered to a purr. "Almost as fun as looking at me?" At this his eye widened a bit, the question catching him off guard. She shifted her stance lowering still so that he could easily see a bit past the battle harness. She could hear his breathing hitch.   
  
"I'm guessing that's a yes." She softly laughed.  
  
"But do you know what  _I_  liked about today?" He shook his head from side to side, his full attention ensnared by her stance over him.   
  
"Let me reword that. Would you like to know what I would've loved to have seen today?" He looked blankly, uncertainty now falling across his face. She leaned to the side of his head, inches from his nape. Her voice was barely audible now.  
  
"I would have liked…  
  
liked it very much…  
  
  
If you FUCKING did what you were told the first time!?" the woman snapped.  
  
She pushed him full over onto the ground. He literally had a look of shock; the gaze alien, even comical. The Tyrant moved to sit up but felt her boot push down on top of his head. He knew if he retaliated he'd get nowhere and feel nothing but racking pain. Grudgingly he laid flat on the ground - the humiliating position forcing him to lay in the backwash of tainted water. He looked up to see her still smiling, but this one held only malice; no desire but to punish. A deep snarl came from his throat, the position clearly angering him.  
  
The same livid anger from earlier returned as Jill viciously pushed her boot down. She spoke through clenched teeth, "I asked you to attack. I asked you to back up my friends. But you fucking sat there. I didn't peg you as the stupid nor slow type." She pushed her boot down further, the large creature straining to not lash out, but also trying but failing to avoid the water that framed his face.   
  
Jill's voice came out cold as ice, "When I  **tell**  you to attack, you do so. No questions, no showboating. I saw two of my comrades die to your stupidity today…it will not happen again. Understand me?"  
  
A soft nod from the cowed Tyrant was his reply.  
  
"Good. Now be a good boy and dry off. I have paperwork to finish. Dealing with you is cutting into that time."  
  
She lifted her foot, and for the first time, she swore she saw …a true glimmer of respect? She decided not to dwell on it, satisfied her point got across. He rose from the ground; letting the water drip down his large frame …and for the first time she could sense true  _nervousness_  from him. No one would dare think much less attempt what just happened now. But she did. Jill merely smiled that same cold smile, knowing that she had him in line for now.  
  
She decided to leave the other half of her indignation alone. His staring did not cause the deaths of others, and considering that he was even able to have such a response...she didn't know what to make of or do about it.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
  
After securing him in the white room, she began to trek back to her office; knowing she was going to be spending the rest of her night writing up the report.  
  
She walked past Josh's office, hearing him seemingly in the midst of a heated conversation. The second male voice was louder than the other, desperate to get his point across. The Africa operative was sitting in his chair, trying to have a civil conversation with Chris. But with the larger BSAA leaning over towards him on his desk their chat was quickly becoming very heated.  
  
"….If you weren't so insistent on taking that thing, you would have had more back up; Misa and James wouldn't have had to die!"  
  
"Look, we walked into a hornets' nest, the sheer amount of infected would have overrun a normally staffed team…" The sound of a hand slapping wood reverberated punctuating the other speaker's anger.  
  
"That bastard is a monstrosity! You already let Jill risk her life every time she 'trains' it or whatever she's doing, but it's not human and will never be!"  
  
"She's not a child Chris! If it wasn't for it, I and Jill would also have been added to the casualty list. At least the mission in some points was completed!"   
  
"Where's the informant, any survivors? Not a one? What kind of success is that Josh! Again, that beast is an insult to BSAA's aims. We should be terminating it, not sheltering it!"  
  
Josh shifted his chair back, standing up in frustration. "It was a bad situation regardless! You weren't there…if you had you would understand that it wasn't going to result in a happy ending…at least the place is contained. Isn't that enough?"  
  
"It will never be enough till that thing is gone, and I'm certain 75% of the base feels the same."  
  
"Well until you are capable of dealing with it better than Jill, neither you nor anyone else has that jurisdiction. As it is despite not liking it myself, I'm alive due to it. I can afford to let it stay for the time being. Now if you don't have anything constructive to talk about, this conversation has ended."  
  
"Josh-!"  
  
"Drop it, Chris. It's late, and my nerves are shot along with my side." The man was coated in gauze on his right side.  
  
Chris let out a deep sigh. "Fine. But I'm not dropping this."  
  
"I know."  
  
Chris started to move towards the door; clearly irate.  
  
Jill sensing the conversation was ending, slipped into her nearby office down the hall into the bathroom, not interested in dealing with him either.   
  
Despite what he thought, she didn't hate him; she understood his need for comfort, for love. She just couldn't give him that. When they were teetering towards the end of their relationship she discovered the phone calls, the notes, the gifts.  
  
Anyone else would have run in screaming, confronting, accusing.   
  
But she didn't. Or rather wouldn't. She could remember that day clearly. That day when she not only realized that he was unfaithful, but that she didn't care. She felt nothing. No betrayal, no feelings at all for the loss of what was over 10 years of her life. She had at one point told herself that this would be the man that she would marry, have that house, kids, a dog and a world full of love and happiness.   
  
But even before her discovery of Chris' indiscretions, she had turned her back on it. He was at one point in time her rock, her faith, her religion. But…Jill didn't need him cheating to understand that her heart nor soul wasn't in it anymore. But Chris even with his lie was overall a loyal man. Too loyal even. He reacted to the discovery more than she, first denying it, then saying he was sorry…so deeply sorry begging for another chance. She didn't ask him why; she knew. Understood that he needed more than a ghost. And that she inversely did not need him. When she calmly suggested he go off to her, he broke down begging for forgiveness.   
  
That day she packed her meager things, moved to this bunker, and never looked back. Never tried to talk with him, or reconcile. She just didn't feel anything nor care anymore.  
  
No. That wasn't entirely true. She did feel something. Those wounds that she tried so hard to bury tearing ever so slightly; even more so when he's around. But she can't show him or expect him to understand them. This hurt stemmed from Africa…from the time that she would never get back…   
  
Her thoughts were interrupted as the door to her office as expected opened. She stalled in the bathroom hoping he'd assume she was out. "Jill?" asked Redfield. He walked further in. "I know you're here, reports are never that quick. That and despite your silence, I knew you were listening to us."  
  
 _Sigh_. How she just didn't feel like getting into it with him right now. She sat in the bathroom wishing he'd get the hint. She waited; as a minute or so passed she hoped that he gave up when a soft knock landed on the bathroom door.  
  
"Jill? I know you're in there. We can talk through the door if you want – but avoiding me isn't going to work."  
  
"Maybe I'm just happily taking my time in the bath?"  
  
"Right. Jill, ever since things exploded between us, you've actively avoided me."  
  
"So? Maybe I actually need space. I mean at least you got a new girlfriend out of the deal?" She could hear him softly suck in air; the comment obviously hurting him.  
  
"But you've literally dropped off the planet once that  _thing_  got placed here." Jill suppressed a laugh at that statement. She had been avoiding him long before the Tyrant was placed here. She knew he was only hiding behind that as a reason to talk to her at all.  
  
She slowly walked out of the bathroom looking in his tired, sad eyes. The man had been indeed a shock to see when she was snapped out of her mental prison, the extra muscle and gruffness to his face so much of a difference from the young fresh man from the days of their S.T.A.R.S. unit. Even before her 'death' he had a well-defined physique but not as defined as the look he held now.   
  
"So you're complaining that I'm avoiding you, or that I'm avoiding you even more? I mean you know maybe I'm just too busy to deal with you?" A look of hurt crossed his eyes.  
  
"Jill. I know things didn't go down in a way we'd like. But throwing your self at work and this monster Josh insists on us storing here is a bit much." She stopped for a moment regarding that. What else honestly did she have? They all knew in taking this job that they were giving up a normal life, the right to go out, have that house with the 2.5 kids. And with things as they are even if she had that luxury, it wouldn't be with him.  
  
"And what would you have me do Chris? Drop everything, run back and try to patch up things…I mean really I'm past that. Aren't you?"  
  
Chris looks away for a moment, trying to compose himself. "….It doesn't have to be like this. I know you took this project to spite me. You win. I'm a bad, bad person. Stop this insanity and help me knock some sense into Josh!"  
  
"It was never about you Chris. Despite what you like to tell yourself, neither the monster nor our break up was ever about you. It was purely for me. Only me. I'm a selfish person and I like it. Maybe if that thought would make it to your brain things wouldn't be so hard for you."  
  
"Jill. I can't expect forgiveness from you. But at least let me back in? I miss the friend I had before all this madness the past years have brought us-"  
  
"Don't you have Sheva for that? I mean she gives you more than I could. And personally, I don't mind really. Stop. Stop trying to beg for forgiveness for some wrong I stopped caring about a while ago."  
  
"I see the age in your face and the circles in your eyes. You already looked ill before, you look paler than you've ever been since caring for that horror! I don't trust it, and neither should you."  
  
"Who said I did. Look, Chris, thanks for the concern but it's heavily misplaced. I'm not ready for anything between us not even a friendship. I don't know when I ever will be. But forcing something isn't helping. Now stop worrying about me and focus on yourself."  Chris went to open his mouth, only getting a soft hand over it. "Stop it, and go home. Let me deal with me. You deal with you. Okay?"  
  
"I still worry about you, Jilly."  
  
"Go home. I'm none of your concern…" She wore a smile, meant to comfort the man, both knowing she felt nothing behind it.  
  
"I miss you, Jill…" came out in a soft whisper as he backed up and left the room. If only he would move on…seeing him was ripping open old wounds. Wounds that barely had the time to heal.  
  
 _Monsters don't understand anguish._


	6. Teaching the Devil - 5 Wrath

**Wrath**  
  
The unmarked black van sped towards another isolated area; it was bigger in respects than the town from a few days ago – possessing small things like a park, a mall, a police station. Jill guestimated the place was roughly half the size of Raccoon. The call was not for a full-scale infection; there was rumor a B.O.W. was let loose in the wooded area outside the city limits by the park.   
  
Lots of shaded wooded area where animals and monsters can hide. Bodies had been found littering the same area, half eaten the heads completely gone and the chest cavity cleaned out. Many staff hoped it was just a wild bear, finding the odds of a monster hard to believe living in their back yard. The town thus did not call for BSAA intervention. But a concerned citizen did. And the BSAA was morally obligated by their aims to investigate any suspected activity.  
  
Rather find out it was a bear then something else entirely.  
  
The van held only two occupants – Jill and the Tyrant.   
  
It was strange going with just one other, especially him. But Josh was still recovering from his wounds, and everyone else didn't want to risk getting killed blaming the monster for the deaths of the two fallen. Jill also surmised that the beast was his own one-man army able to go above and beyond that of a normal sized group. Secondly, he seemed willing to cooperate with specifically her. But when it came to other teammates, he seemed not interested in the least about them. During that bloodbath of a mission, he either did not help the other teammates to spite her or merely felt no need to protect any of them. It was his own prerogative in that respect, so she honestly was glad no one else came. Less liability if he indeed decided to sit on his ass again. She could only hope that they were enough. A smaller cornered threat can be just as dangerous as a full-scale outbreak.  
  
Jill would know – she learned that first hand in the past with her current 'partner'. The creature currently was sitting in the back, alertly watching her. She noted that he rarely looked outside or around the van, just concentrating on at her as if she was going to suddenly disappear. Before the water incident, she thought he was just sizing her up, waiting for a distracted moment. He's a hunter; hunters constantly evaluate and reevaluate their prey.  But she knew now that what hid behind his gaze had nothing to do with attacking her at all. After that night she told herself to grin and bear it, but it was honestly making her wary. A deep unknown feeling rose up within; not anger, not disgust, but it was there, all the same, causing her mind to leap to many conclusions. Without saying a word he was getting under her skin. He knew this and she didn't like it.  
  
She lifted her thermos full of water sipping through the lid flap, feeling his eye follow every action, every move. It seemed since their little talk with her foot, he had taken to this often, especially when they were alone. She placed the thermos back in the cup rest, the van rolling closer to the area the sighting was supposed to be.  
  
Parking the van by a grove of dead trees, she turned the engine off, the lights dimming leaving them in the cool darkness of a November night. She opened the back of the van grabbing her gear, feeling his eye on her still. She slipped on her twin holsters, packing her trusted Desert Eagle, a Berretta, and a rifle along with some grenades and whatever else she could comfortably fit in her pants pockets. The chill was a bit biting but her outfit did an okay job, besides walking would help heat her up. He seemed if anything unaffected by the temperature.   
  
She had brought with her the thermos, the container sitting to her side. She looked towards the cramped B.O.W. looking at her, with that aggravatingly intense stare. "What are you staring at,  _partner_?" She finally sneered, the constant scrutiny making her more annoyed. The Tyrant merely looked at her downward not even trying to hide that he was staring.  _Social graces; this guy obviously doesn't possess any of them._  "Don't you know it's rude to stare like that?"  
  
Incredibly the B.O.W. nodded. Then in a deliberate act to irk her further he licked his teeth staring at her still.  _Bastard_. "So you do know; you're just being an ass. Do you know what asses get for being rude?" No movement, just the same blatant stare. A deep sound rumbled from him, akin to a deep guttural laugh. He was fully pushing her buttons, the sound only serving to piss her off further.   
  
"So that's how it is, huh? Well keep staring and you'll find yourself in a world of disappointment, you disgusting monster." She punctuated the last word with her tossing the contents of the thermos onto his face. This caused him to rear back jostling the van. Before he could recover from that plastic met his head, the sound of it falling on the van's metal floor echoing around them.   
  
"Get the fuck out." She narrowed her eyes at him and then proceeded to move out of the doorway adjusting her combat gear. He then slid out and visibly turned his head from her, the water dripping down his face. She made sure everything was set and started on her way.  _It's things like this that makes me want to toss him back into his cage._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
They had walked a few meters around the wooded area, looking for any signs of activity. Nothing but brush and trees met her vision. She had turned on a pocket light keeping her ears open. They passed by a small ravine with a small creek within. She walked along it, knowing that it was a good landmark to reference their trek in case they got lost.   
  
The Tyrant looked to merely follow her, occasionally lifting his head upwards. It was a strange looking action to be sure; he has no visible ears or really a nose to speak of. And yet he was sniffing the air like a hound. It was in a disturbed way funny. She only realized that she was laughing out loud only by him looking at her quizzically.   
  
"What? You look hilarious. What do you smell boy!? Did Timmy fall in the well again?" She couldn't contain it, the mental image surprisingly lightening her mood. He merely tilted his head, the joke clearly going over his head. "Ah, a joke's no fun if you don't get it. Seriously what do you smell out here?" He walks slowly towards her making a motion with his arm. He brings it to his face and sniffs. He then reaches for her arm, motioning to hold it. She cautiously lifts it up and feels the soft displacement of air. But unlike when he demonstrated on his arm he seemed to take a longer amount of time with hers, trailing her arm from the crook of her elbow to her hand. The hair on her skin raised up the light action making her tremble. She started to feel rather uncomfortable; he's too close again… _too close_. She could feel her throat tighten, it becoming harder to breathe.   
  
 _Stop…don't touch me…_  
  
Inky dark memories started to come unbidden; by sheer will, she repressed them down.  
  
 _He's not trying to hurt, not like…breathe. That was then this is now. Breathe._  
  
She mentally calmed herself hoping that the sniffing monster did not pick up on it. She began to pull away when he suddenly dropped her arm, a snarl coming up from his throat. But Jill never recalled hearing anything. His stapled head was in the air again clearly smelling something new. The hand that previously held her arm now hung at his side, a large thick tentacle snaking out of the palm, his whole stance defensive. Something was definitely out here. She pulled out her Berretta, trying to physically place whatever he was sensing. She turned her back towards him, hoping he would at least try to guard her this time.   
  
She pointed outwards and suddenly felt herself being bodily pushed to the side. The B.O.W. was shaking, the P30 registering aggression against her, but what more was the huge spikes protruding from the middle of his torso. A creature of almost the same height stood in front of him, it looking to be covered in nothing but spikes. The face was snake-like in appearance, the maw taking up almost the entirety of the face, it filled with rows of shark-like teeth in a mouth that seemed to hinge open beyond that of a human. But it also had the ability to send out impaling spikes from a far distance. If the Tyrant hadn't pushed Jill, she would have been impaled. But he was now paying for it with the P30 not registering the difference. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, the shock causing his body to arch outward in a physically painful angle.  
  
The shock ended, but in the moment of his incapacitation, the spiked beast had shoved more choice spikes into the Tyrant's torso. Purple blood had started to pool around his feet. Jill had started to unload her fire onto the head hitting choice spots onto the creature's head. But it seemed that she wasn't even leaving a scratch; each time she made a hole on it, it seemed to knit back together the body thatching together before her eyes. She lowered her gun trying to examine it…and noted the almost barely there movement under its skin.   
  
The B.O.W. had recovered from the stun and now had to deal with the protruding spikes. Five or so various protrusions had neatly stuck through to the other side of him, an impalement that would have definitely ripped a lesser creature apart. The spiked creature then pulled forward, grabbing him nearer into its spiked body. But when it went in to completely pull him forward onto itself, the thing shrieked in pain as its prey returned the favor by impaling it through the torso with a well-placed tentacle.  
  
The Tyrant used this distraction to push the lodged in spikes out from him, pressing his boot against the abdomen of the screaming assailant. Jill had dug through her pockets finding what she needed and attached the infrared scope to her rifle. She aimed, the scope showing off the hidden moving creatures inside of the spiked monster's chest. As it reached up to swipe at the larger target a large hole suddenly sunk into its chest, the entry point of the bullet seeming to leave a dimple in its grey, mottled skin. The creature that once squirmed under the skin no longer moved, the black ichor of it leaking through the dimpling wound. Another well aimed shot from afar picked off a second one.   
  
The creature shrieked shrilly, its hidden parasites found out. It shot out another spike to its side trying to get at Jill again, but she rolled out of the way picking off another moving parasite with her inferred scope. She could see one barely picking up on the scope; it had to be on the back. Her last movement had her backed to the edge of the ravine, steadying her footing to aim.   
  
Meanwhile, the spiked monstrosity and the Tyrant were in a struggle, the leather-clad one still dripping purple on the ground. He fought through it, reaching for the other's head. Sharp claws went to scratch at his face before gloved hands held it by its maw. The Tyrant pressed within, finding that it was the least protected spot on his assailant. He used both hands gripping inside the top and bottom and began to pull the mouth open in opposite directions. The teeth were cutting his fingers but he pressed harder feeling it starting to flail spiking into him further. A tentacle slipped from under his top, wrapping around the other's right leg causing it to lose momentum in its flailing.   
  
Jill kept trying to get a clear shot, the two viciously struggling. The struggling spiked beast suddenly lurched forward against the restraining tentacle pushing its full weight onto the Tyrant in a desperate bid to buck the other off. This caught the other off guard, earning him more spikes in the gut pushing him back into where Jill was crouching. Jill had only a second to move as she was positioned behind them to get a clear shot. As she saw the last parasite in her sights she sniped it; right before losing her footing on and slipping on the damp edge of the ravine.   
  
She rolled back, landing on her shoulder. Luckily it wasn't a far fall, but unluckily she landed in the cold moving water. The Tyrant up above her was too busy still struggling with their spiked quarry. As she had sniped the parasites inside of it, it could no longer regenerate. The beast again was trying to impale and throw off the other, but it was too late for it as the Tyrant heard a satisfying ripping sound as the muscles that served for its body gave way, the mouth tearing into a distended open smile.  He continued to do this till the head was literally ripped open, the struggling monster finally ceasing to move.  
  
Dropping the dead creature, he leaned down to assess his injuries, the middle of his torso already repairing itself. The coat had taken some minor damage but was still wearable. Only then did he look quizzically for Jill. She rose from the water, shivering as she was soaking wet. If this were summer it wouldn't be so bad, but they were in the tail end of fall. She needed to get back to the van soon. She could already feel her body temperature dropping fast. She got up, testing her legs.  _Good. I can still walk._    
  
She rubbed her arms trying to force her body to stay warm a bit longer. She should pull off her damp clothing, but her sense of decency said otherwise. As it was she felt like she was walking off the stage of a wet tee contest, the fabric sticking and leaving little to the imagination in areas. She walked towards the higher edge of the ravine she had tumbled down. She began to pull herself upwards, the weight of her damp gear making it harder than normal. Suddenly a strong hand pulled her by the harness landing her ungracefully up top. She was met with that same intense stare again.   
  
A series of dark thoughts ran through her mind now. She was basically alone in the cold, showing more than she'd care to admit to something most would not wish to meet in a dark alley. It didn't help that he was suddenly …unlocking his coat. He unclasped the top left clasp, loosening the two thick bands that surrounded his chest. This was followed by the myriad snaps as he pulled the blood-drenched thing off.  _What …the hell …is he planning?_  
  
He takes the top off exposing his undamaged torso.  _Healed already. Damn._  It was funny really. She never troubled herself at really getting a good look at him. Mainly because the times she was near him topless she was too busy trying to not die. But there was nothing all that exciting under there, just his bare torso, save for a tentacle here or there and the borderline necrotic tint to his skin,  he looked as 'normal' looking as he could – well in comparison to what a human would normally possess anyway…But the more important point right now was that unhinged stare.   
  
That specific look unnerved her. It wasn't the purely rude look of earlier in the van or the distracted puppy dog look from the water a few nights ago. This was more like what he displayed after that over the top kill of that hulking abomination. The glare they shared at that intense staring match. This was a glare so dark there was no way yelling at him was going to drop it. Inwardly she squirmed, indignation giving way to a slow building panic. Jill was aware that it was becoming hard for her to breathe again, her breaths coming out deep and rattled. It was becoming highly difficult to hide the pure disordered thoughts that ran wild now, telling her bad,  **bad**  things were going to occur.  
  
She began to instinctively back up slowly her mind rolling through many possible reasons for the coat removal, none of them remotely good – only to have the heavy thing thrown at her in a pile at her feet. He merely grunts at her and turns his back. She could barely see the P30 bulging at the base of his back, the underskirt billowing over top of it. She was curious, not expecting him to just like that give up his protective top.  
  
She looks at him with wide eyes, the gesture fully unexpected. She slowly pulls the heavy thing on, tightening on a few of the myriad straps and clasps to keep warm. The inside was full of body heat making the wetness from the creek at least slightly bearable. It fell to her feet the top alone covering her body easily save for her head.  
  
 _Monsters…don't do this sort of thing. Right?_  
  
He kicked the dead corpse to a nearby tree and begins to walk towards the van. She stood and started to follow, the top dragging behind her. She hugged it to her trying to calm her rattled mind down. She felt like backhanding herself.  _Get it together Jill_. Her thoughts had run wild with assumption filling her literally with unnecessary panic. Panic is not what she needs right now. The mission is over and he's walking away.   
  
Just walking away.  
  
 _So what the hell was that stare about then?_


	7. Teaching the Devil - 6 Greed

**Greed**     
  
She was leaving the dingy hall away from the elevator, her session with him done for the day. As she crossed the center connecting hall two men in fatigues looked to her direction, their topic obviously about her. Jill at first never cared really. She knew that she was coasting beautifully into her 30s and expected that kind of talk. Or if anything mutterings of wonder – she was still at least in some people's eyes seen as a hero. If only it just stayed that way.   
  
She had heard the rumors flying about recently. At first, finding the monikers funny, she now loathed whoever decided running their mouths about her were being 'productive'.  
  
 _Monster Tamer.  
  
B.O.W. Whisperer._  
  
Some of the rumors questioned her methods; even underhandedly implied that she was giving him incentive beyond what was proper.   
  
 _Tyrant Bitch._  
  
She already had to contend with the odd rumor that she was a willing little pawn that led in part to the destruction of the BSAA group in Africa. This was partly why Josh was here, to recruit some new blood for the ailing program over there. She knew deep down it was all that man's fault. The man with red and gold sunbursts, eyes that made her do anything and everything in their thrall…she felt the familiar pang of rage, doubt, and hurt rise up. She took deeper breaths to push them back into their mental cage.   
  
No, there's no time for that. She continued down the hall in a neat grey tweed skirt and top, the white undershirt hugging her still tone form. She never really got on with any of the staff here. She felt comfortable keeping to herself, which she knew only added to her mystique for better or worse.   
  
The temptation to go to the makeshift bed in the back of her office was pushed aside; she was tired but had paperwork she needed to finish, notes to jot down. Sleep will come when she was ready – sleep that never gave her peace or comfort.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
In dreams, she found no peace or hope. In dreams, she did not see lives being saved, or the peaceful dreams of good things, she saw a world at war. A world at war for power, for greed, from those that saw it as weak and therefore not worthy of being. A madman that wished for a new world order.   
  
The same madman that decided she was to not simply die but to live with a heavy price. The man with cat-like eyes rimmed in gold and red; a man so full of hate that simply killing her was out of the question. No, he wished for her suffering, he railed for her to be broken and bloody, to beg for death when he chose to give it. He initially was going to just use her as another test subject, destroying her with needles, numbers, and science.  
  
But after finding a use for her in his mad science, she had begun to dearly wish that he indeed had let her die on the lab table. She now stood in front of a village, poor but happy, with hope in their eyes. She was holding up a test container said to bring riches and prosperity to all those that use it.  
  
They looked at the tube with awe not seeing the monstrous creation that sat inside it. She knew, but her body would do nothing but smile the snake oil she was peddling not so much as denting her pale face. She would have one or two at a time come in to try this miracle cure; this 'seed' that would cure pain, that would make them stronger than even their ancestral Gods could. She remembers the older tribesmen protesting. They were secretly the first to get force fed the 'treatment'.   
  
And when the children, the women in the village started to drop like flies she was the one that with a smile told them that they were just unlucky, just unhealthy, too weak. Some still prayed to their Gods but it seemed that they too have abandoned them, angry at their choosing a miracle cure over Them. For the few that saw through the game, they were paid off in trinkets and modern convenience, until they too were infected. All with a smile on her face. She was their pale Goddess now, a Goddess with strings pulling from the shadows.  
  
 _Monster._  
  
But in this room behind the scenes, she became something else; or rather something less. She walked to the large mirror, the long oval glass surrounded by dark cherry; etching along the edges of small intricate flowers. The mirror reflected back the lush darkly lit room, the only place in the living quarters that he allowed to be more lavishly furnished. The expansive bed full of red fabric, the walls a deep maroon almost black. It was colored so that the daylight would not interrupt the resident inside, and to hide the drops of fluids, of blood that she knew lined those sheets.   
  
 _Hers._  
  
She looked in the mirror, the P30 beating, pumping its poison into her. Her body like a porcelain doll when clothed, but knowing how broken it was underneath. The suit; the costume she was forced to wear was his choice so that he could devour her body with those monstrous, evil eyes at will. What he could have all to himself what was once her right to keep from him. But now…she could only look pretty, hoping that would be enough. The body smiled full of grace, beauty, and strength. But the eyes; the dead, dead eyes were the only windows from her bodily prison looking outward. Always looking outward as her mind ran like a rat trying to scratch out.  
  
She was not his whore. No, her body, her torturous mindless body was the doll he enjoyed. But her mind screamed anyway. Screamed in helpless black inky rage. He would afford her living corpse food, shelter, protection; throwing her his scraps while he ate fine off the backs of TriCell and the many villagers that believed in them. And for those little things she was spared she had to 'earn' it.  
  
She is never alone; he sits behind her on that filthy hellish bed with an equally filthy smile his inhuman eyes roaming; her passively staring at the horror she sees in the mirror. She is standing, passive as the man walks forward; his strong hands roaming, touching where they shouldn't be. He leans against her, bringing his face to hers, slowly licking across her unmoving frozen lips. The feel of his tongue licking across her face, the action making her wish her doll of a body would respond if only to actively cringe. Her eyes hold in her minds screams of torment.   
  
 _Please don't…don't touch me…_  
  
'Now dear heart, you know that the task is never complete till I say so. And you have yet to earn your keep. Now, pay your master what he's due.'  
  
Her body does what he commands, the fingers registering and plucking the snaps off the skin tight battle suit. The long zipper opened the suit, it revealing her unnaturally pale skin to the room, covered in faint bruises, cuts, and scars. Scars that were not from battle or from the P30.   
  
 _don't touch me…_  
  
He's biting her nape now, drawing blood, the body not flinching, her mind wanting to die. The blond sucks her nape, his lips rosy from the crimson flowing from the pale lifeless woman. She wants to if not be killed, to die. But how can she when her body is not her own?  
  
The blond walks to the bed; laying in nothing but black pants, sitting, waiting as she knows what her next task is to be.  He pats the front of his pants, motioning for her to come and  _earn her keep_. Her body hesitates mid-turn, seeing something large and black sitting in a chair beside the expansive bed.  
  
A lone colorless eye watches from the corner, the large figure stoic and seemingly unnoticed by the blond sitting nearby with impatience on his chiseled features. The leather-clad monster sports an addition - large arching bat-like wings protruding from his back, folded in. The expression on him is a strange one, the look alien yet one of softness, understanding. He silently gestures with his hand, holding out his large gloved hand palm up. She was afraid to turn her back on the one on the bed, but maybe, maybe this time she could escape this pain. Just for a little while.  
  
'Dear heart, what's taking you? I dislike being made to wait. Do you wish to disappoint me?' The man prompted. She knew he hated waiting. But her curiosity was ruling her now.  
  
She walks to the dark creature, finding her body suddenly hers. She looks at him, silently pleading for them to leave faster. The larger hand curls around hers, him rising out of the chair. His wings fan out, hiding her from the man on the bed, a barrier from her nightmare.  
  
'Are you being selfish and not sharing your wealth with me, who have taken such good care of you…?' The man on the bed asks with anger rising in his voice. She slinks closer to her escort, the man on the bed more frightening more damning then this monster could ever be.  
  
They walk past the mirror and suddenly the black of his trench coat burns away like fire. She clings to him panicking, wanting to tell him to not leave her here.   
  
 _Please don't…_    
  
Winds whip around him, the tall monstrous figure flaking away like charred wood. He fades away chipping away into the air then nothing. But he seemed to be fading into something else entirely, his boots fading becoming replaced by pale feet. The black ash swirls and bellows, revealing long sculpted legs that ended into flowing white robes, robes of times long ago. Her rescuer was now a reflection of beauty, a tall Amazon-like woman with dark brown hair braided intricately into a loose bun. But what stood out most was her blindingly white wings framing her and encompassing almost the entire room. Her expression is cold, merciless her eyes colorless and dead. In her left hand is a blade, heavy, ornate and glinting - covered in blood spatter from ages past.   
  
Almost as sudden as with her body, she regained her voice. 'Where did he go? Are you…to rescue me then?'  
  
A voice soft and yet regal came from this unearthly figure, 'One cannot flee their own mind. Or their just due.'  
  
'I just want this to end. Can you…can you give me that?'   
  
'…as you wish.' She rears up her hand, her cold colorless eyes only reading judgment. The gilded sword painted in red was raised up, the point sitting at Jill's throat. Jill closed her eyes as the winged woman plunges it into Jill's throat.   
  
Jill's conflicted blue eyes snap open, her body wrapped around in sweat-soaked sheets.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
She showered and threw on some sweats, the highly vivid and surreal dream making any wish to go back to sleep null. Another sleepless night was to befall her she surmised. Jill could live with that. She would have nightmares often and took to roaming the halls when a particularly bad episode would occur. The bunker was empty; even though she, Chris and Josh were somewhat permanent staff here, she was the only one who took it upon herself to live here. Many of the operatives had safe houses or stayed in places with aliases. Since the majority of them would be on the move shifting around the country, the fear of a location being found out was lessened.   
  
When she moved here it took a bit of convincing to get Josh to allow her to stay. Until the Africa branch was back to capacity he ran this area's branch, her and Chris as joint second in command (though Chris was poised to take over once he leaves). She told Josh of her situation, and since she more than not stayed over anyway to do paperwork, she would do well working and living here. She remembered joking that she could be that janitor no one bothered to hire.   
  
Chris stayed curiously silent on the decision; Jill had been thankful for that. She had set up a makeshift cot, a fridge, and small other essentials. Many would have found the place eerie with nothing but dark and empty halls, but she found that the halls free of chatter were peaceful. The feeling of just being by her self-was comforting; she didn't have to deal with irate comrades or constant rumor.   
  
In her roaming, she had found herself in front of the elevator. She remarked internally how she walks here out of blind habit now. She swipes the ID card going down to the lower dirt and rock hall. Down it was the familiar white room. She walked to it, her hand barely touching the knob. She had never come down here after hours before. For the first time in a long time, she hesitated.   
  
There were no windows in, nor any cameras. The only way to see within was to walk inside. But she did not open it. She merely sat on the floor. She sat wondering…  
  
 _Do monsters sleep?_  
  
She never recalled ever seeing him truly lay and sleep. He didn't really seem to eat much as it was or have a pressing need for hygiene, shelter and clothing were given to him but he seemed to not in honesty need even those if given the choice. Doesn't he even have the most basic of wants? Do all his desire stem from merely killing?  
  
 _Do monsters dream?_  
  
If he did dream, were they of anything pleasant or were they just as cruel as her own? She pondered this, her back framed by the white painted metal of the door. The soft sound of the bed creaking was all that came through the door, the sound not answering anything. Jill sat here for a time, holding herself with just her thoughts, the nightmare that prompted her here long forgotten.


	8. Teaching the Devil - 7 Gluttony

**Gluttony**  
  
Months pass without incident. Save for that unnerving blank stare he had been on his best behavior around her. After the definite success of the last one, another mission was passed down having the two sent to a found lab a state over. Jill already found it odd to be sent with just the two of them for a lab search and destroy task. Labs could contain anything, a horde of infected, unmonitored beasts long let loose by faulty systems, or merely nothing but lab notes. What was more astonishing was that Josh trusted her to keep him in line this far away from the bunker.   
  
This didn't sit well with Chris.   
  
The man had been trying his damn hardest now to override Josh's judgment. Once he got wind of the incoming mission, he was found in the other BSAA's office in a fit of rage. The discussion Jill knew had been ugly. She knew Redfield meant well…but he was worrying himself to death. He was at one point screaming at Josh, telling him he was exercising poor judgment; that if he had to he'd pull rank.   
  
Jill had to give Josh credit; the man had yet to throttle Chris. He merely told the irate man to get out. The tone in his voice was hard and was not to be questioned. And so Chris left. But as she walked past the office she decided to duck out to the dirt hall. Chris was more than likely to gun for her office first anyway.  
  
She had taken to staying down there more often than not. At times even catching some sleep on the dirt floor. She didn't know why the room and its occupant drew her so. She just felt more comfortable here; he never judged her or yelled at her, or assumed anything of her. It probably helped he never talked, but still…she could be free to think, to have a sense of control and freedom over something.  
  
The woman was halfway to the room when the elevator behind her creaked open. It seemed Chris was not to be deterred. Her blond hair fanned out, most of the strands hanging loosely from the ponytail keeping the bulk at bay. She was steps from peace and now had Chris staring down the same door she stood in front of in rage.  
  
"Jill." She inwardly groaned at the almost scolding tone his voice took.   
  
"Yes? I'm kind of busy; can we talk later?"  
  
"No. We need to talk. Now."  
  
She turned to face him, his features that held boyish charm but was marred by the anger that clouded it. She remembered that face too, that face as he realized she was alive. That her body was alive. It made her grieve, that even he was broken by her actions. She never wished for him to suffer too.   
  
But now he's causing his own by constantly worrying about her. He needed to let this go.  
  
"Seriously? What is it that has you so-"  
  
"You know what.  _That_. In there. You've been basically coddling it, running from us humans living down here. What the hell is wrong with you, Jill?!"  
  
She glared at him now. She was tired. Tired of people talking. Tired of sympathetic looks. Tired of people assuming, wanting to help. Tired of Chris thinking she's helpless. She was rescued by him sure, but she was no longer a locked away princess. Doesn't he understand he's hurting more than helping?  
  
Her voice was small, soft. "What's wrong with me? You look at me like that, you question everything I do and say, or don't say, and you ask me what is wrong?" He stood his ground, still angry but his face softening.  
  
"You are what is wrong. You who won't let me for once act on my own!"  
  
The man looked as if she punched him. "How…how can you say that? You look terrible, you act like a recluse-"  
  
"I like being alone! But no one lets me!"  
  
"But you never were like this before-"   
  
"Stop." She cuts him off harshly, her face turning up into a snarl. "Oh wait, before Africa. I'm sorry, but maybe things changed. Maybe things despite your hopes just are not like before. Maybe I need time. All I ask is just that much; all I ask is for you to let me breathe!"  
  
"I want to help Jill. I just want to help you get well. Bunking down here will not fix things."  
  
"Fix? You must get it in your head that you aren't the one to fix me, Chris! I don't want your help, and honestly, it's not your place to keep pushing it on me…so why do you keep persisting?"  
  
"So facing that monster in armchair discussion will? Is it your new councilor Jill? Do you realize how insane it looks you staying down here? I've been told by many the amount of time you stay down here. It's unhealthy for you to even be near it, unarmed much less talking at it."  
  
"He's not stupid. He doesn't need to respond. He's sentient and can follow orders, what more would one need from him?"  
  
Chris stares at Jill, restraining the urge to backhand her. His voice cool, dark, vicious: " _It_. That thing is an ' _it_ ' Jill. It sits listening because it has no choice. It sits because it has nothing better to do. Whatever emotional investment you have going on you should drop it-"  
  
"Emotional? Where are you picking that up from?"  
  
"I'm not stupid either Jill. I can see it, you're attached to it. You are clinging on to it and it's unprofessional and unhealthy. It may nod its head in comprehension, but things that separate us from things like it, like comradery, closeness, happiness, love; it can never reciprocate. Only rage. Until you learn that, it will only make whatever you're going through worse!"  
  
Jill looked away for a moment, letting that statement sink in. "You don't understand at all, do you? It's not about closeness; it's about for once not being judged, looked at, prodded at, and expected of.  _You_  aren't scrutinized day after day for shit  _you_  had no control of.  _You_  get to go home where someone genuinely cares AND understands  _you_.  _I_  don't have that luxury. I'm tired, Chris. I'm tired of trying to be strong, of looking important. At least  _he_  in there lets me think. Doesn't expect anything of me other than the next job. Funny, I feel more comfortable around him than actual humans." At this Chris looks at her wide-eyed in irritation and confusion.  
  
"I know that is wrong. But he's in his own way allowing me to cope, to just  _be_."  
  
He slumps his posture reading nothing but defeat and sadness; the wish high to understand the why behind her actions.  "I could help you too…I could help you find a safer outlet. Flinging yourself into the devil's maw to escape hell is not sane. I'm- I'm putting in paperwork requesting its termination."  
  
"On whose authority Chris? Last I checked Josh ran things here."   
  
"We both know that if enough staff disagrees with a decision that it can be overridden, Jill."  
  
"So you're going above his head then. Didn't know you would be so underhanded, Chris. Who's the monster again?" She's visibly shaking with rage.  
  
"I'm doing this for you! It should never have been brought here. Other agents are requesting reassignment because of it…this affects everyone, but I'm doing it for you." He leans to reach her, to hold her. She steps back, refusing the gesture.  
  
"No. You're doing it for you. All for you. All because you can't have me 24-7! You selfish bastard. You claim to want to be by my side, to take care of me, then suddenly there's someone else. Then once we break up you complain I'm never around. Then this beast drops in and your whole world goes to shit. What is it, Chris. Do you fear I've replaced you somehow? That somehow I'm inaccessible to you? You made things that way. You stayed away when I could have needed you, and when I need you to step back you smother me, trying to have me all to yourself. Don't come down here and feed me that line. Don't. Because it hurts me more that you would override my wishes just because you are denied my presence."  
  
"Jill…I didn't mean it like that…I…" He reached touching her shoulder. She violently slaps his hand away.   
  
"No. You did. Don't talk to me. I'm tired of dealing with you or being around you. I never thought you were that kind of man but it seems it took  _that_ " pointing to the white door, "to bring your true colors out. Good job."  
  
"I won't put them in right away." He whispered. "Prove – just prove to me it's safe to be around and I'll postpone the request."   
  
"I shouldn't have to." Turning heel, Jill walks to the white door turning her back on him. "I shouldn't have to ever prove anything to a partner, especially one with the close history we  _had_." The last word came out as a choked whisper. She reached for the door, the faintly audible shift of the bed signifying that the occupant inside had moved at all. Chris could only watch as the haunted woman disappeared into the white cage.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
They were on the second level of the lab after Jill doing some choice hacking of the mainframe computer. The OS was Umbrella standard, so Jill knew of the specific codes to reroute getting the locked elevator up to operational. After a silent ride downward, she walked forward with guns drawn, the Tyrant heading up the rear.  
  
She had noticed the lack of him staring at her. He does it so much she kind of expected it of him. His doing it was so it almost was as natural as breathing. But now that the large monster had stopped, it felt odd. She would once in a while turn her head to see if maybe he was doing it in secret, but only found him staring at the floor, wall, everywhere but her. Part of her thought that this is good, finally, he got the hint. But another felt that something had to be wrong. He doesn't just stop something suddenly without reason. She hadn't yelled at him about it or anything recently either.   
  
She pushed it aside, finding the nonissue ridiculous. She took off her top jacket, tying it around her waist. The place was stuffy the air uncirculated and stale. Breathable air still pumped in though and going by the computer upstairs not infected on this level. Underneath was a dark green tank, her pale arms exposed to the air. A small GPS built into a BSAA standard watch was the only thing on either of her arms aside from her gun holders and side dagger. She hoped nothing would be down here, but walked in expecting the worst patting her pants pockets full of first aid sprays.   
  
The woman turns slightly catching the barely there glance from him before again tilting his head in another direction.  _So he is looking._  For some reason, this quells the strange feeling of unease that had set in since this odd development. Jill arched a blond eyebrow but mentally dropped it. They have a mission to finish. Her idea of fun was not staying in this stuffy lab, especially with a third floor to investigate. The lab going by the schematics she saw on the top floor computer was relatively small, only three floors. It must've been a small-scale operation or an intermediary lab; there to transport lower level test samples from one lab to another.   
  
The building of these smaller in-between labs was to lessen the cramped space of their large-scale ones as well as posing as the labs the public saw without too much  _incriminating_  evidence lying around. But Umbrella was not the most organized of corporations, their list of labs becoming lost during their downfall. So the BSAA sought out each one; it was like searching for landmines, large viral plague filled landmines. The two walked into a large room full of computer consoles. Jill had hacked the topside one and so did not concern herself with them.   
  
Her partner though walked to the side of the room full of computers, the flashing consoles catching his eye. Jill was busy looking around for any clues: key cards, tags, notes that would give her a sense of what was down here. The B.O.W. leans forward, quietly seeing a lone desktop that sat by itself to the side, full of dated files. The person who it belonged to was probably long gone; whatever password he or she had placed on it long nullified due to Jill's tampering from upstairs.  
  
Since the destruction of the Red Queen program, all the Umbrella linked computers could access the stored files universally. One folder on the pc's desktop grabs his attention.   
  
 _NEMESIS Project_    
  
Curiosity prompts him, carefully pressing on the tiny mouse to click open the file.   
  
 _Information on the creation and biological needs of each test subject.  
  
Subject 01 terminated. Subjects 03, 04; deceased. Subject 02_ - the file here was long, detailed. He mentally kept note of her location; she was still searching in the room over from him now. A note in red stood out among the massive wall of text.   
  
 _Test model possessing higher than average levels of aggression than others. This due to model used as control subject; …organs left intact to increase aggression levels. Parasitic directives imputed to curb impulses outside of main objectives._    
  
He taps the table softly with one large finger, the information …disquieting. The file goes on and on, describing combat data, pictures; shots of a dig crew recovering a large bloated mass.   
  
 _Notes on the recovery progress._     
  
He shuts his lone colorless eye, sensing her return.   
  
He walks forward as the screen behind him has scrolling in large letters-  
  
 **Delete of selected files in progress.**  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
The third floor opens to them, the stench of decay hitting her hard. Jill pulls out a breathing mask, hoping to at least tolerate the air, but also fearing that the place was definitely contaminated. BSAA are routinely given antiviral injections – but to walk into a contaminated area without precautions would be suicidal. But Jill wore hers mostly for the smell. Dying on the field was a secondary concern if that.   
  
The place looked like an oversized storage unit, boxes, crates, disposal units. There were some side units. The blond tilts her head towards a back room, signaling her plan to head inside. She flips on the large light switch beside the door casting the area in a yellow pallor. The lighting sort of helped but not by much in improving her line of vision. A low growl is heard from farther in, the sound the first sign of life they had both heard since arriving. She motions for him to go forward and investigate. The Tyrant complies walking farther into the den.  
  
As she leaned towards the source, a thin hand grabs her out of nowhere. She quickly kicks the errant hand, the decomposed animated corpse of a researcher barreling towards her. The former man's face was nothing more than a mash of decomposed skin and slime, having been dead for a long, long time down here. She draws back her boot aiming to smash the unfortunate man's face in when another hand grabs her jacket. Another lab researcher; from the looks of its size a woman, the name tag that awkwardly hung off her tattered jacket reading 'Ann P'. She pushed backward knocking the woman back but keeps distance from the one crawling towards her from the floor.  
  
She ducks them both pushing herself forward to give her self more room. As she began to aim for the stumbling female that low growl is heard again, above her now. By pure instinct, she dodged to the side just as the large skinless figure above her lashed out narrowly missing her head, but clipping her bare left arm. Some part of her thought to call for help, but that same deep dark part of her refused to admit she would need it.  _He's an extra body, not my protector. I can do this fine…I can destroy villages, I can surely handle these?_  
  
She aimed her gun putting a well-aimed bullet in the crawling zombie's head. Her attention taken up by the three in front of her, two other formally deceased employees shambled behind her, circling the woman. They could smell the blood from her arm, the smell of the living. Jill was surrounded. But she didn't care. One bullet landed neatly into Ann's forehead. The number lowered to three. A kick knocking one approaching zombie back, the other shot in both its legs.   
  
 _Monsters don't understand humility or adversity!_  Her mind screamed in dark insane rage.  
  
But as she circled she had forgotten the most dangerous of the group; but the licker had not forgotten her. As she had turned to kick it had lashed out its long prehensile tongue, wrapping it around her free arm. The barbs on the tongue scratched her skin, leaving a bloody line as it slid across her skin. She was pulled to the ground leaving her prone to it and to the unimpeded zombie. She aimed her gun shooting the undead in the skull, it falling down in a bloody pile. The licker pulled her closer and closer the pain in her arm excruciating. It tugged again her other hand hitting hard against a metal holding tank, her gun knocked out of her hands. She tried to pull against it, losing her breathing mask in the struggle. The full smell of death and decay nearly made her eyes water clouding her vision.   
  
She willed her battered hand to grip along her combat knife. With a swing the tongue wrapped around her arm went slack, the licker screaming in pain. Stumbling to get up she stabbed the last zombie in the forehead, a long trail of rotten black gore oozing from the wound. She reached for her discarded gun but was suddenly pushed on her back the licker poised to rip her throat out. Jill merely looked up and laughed at it, laughed at the absurdity of it all. The cuts in her arm were deeper than she first realized, the blood pooling around her at an alarming rate. She reached farther the gun so damn far out of reach, thinking her luck has finally run out. She could only laugh at death. Crying at it was pointless.   
  
The watch on her arm flashed and beeped. She pressed the silent emergency button, an alert to let others know that she was in deep trouble, or was already dead.  _Yeah, that seems more than likely at this moment._  Her hand still tries to reach out hoping to reach if not the gun; the knife still stuck in a dead man's skull…anything at this point. But nothing was available but her own two fists. She could only smile up at the horrific hinged maw, daring it to go ahead.   
  
A hard bang to her left interrupted her and the licker's fight, as another of its brethren was thrown bodily down the hall where the initial sounds came from. It landed with brute force against the storage room wall, the clear casing around its exposed brain cracking inward against the hard surface. The sound of heavy footsteps followed ending up at the taller black-clad figure. The corpse of another one hung limply in his gloved right hand. The licker on top of Jill snarled, angry that its meal was being interrupted. A low, dark growl answered back thick with territorial purpose.   
  
The licker leaped from Jill not liking its hunting grounds contested. It rolled up on its distended hind legs and leaped forward onto the tall monster in the doorway. But as quickly as its assault began, it ended with its throat being caught mid-air; its neck neatly snapping in the Tyrant's large palm. Jill looked up in a daze expecting death, but only feeling lightheaded, tired. The floor was thick with red, her arm burning.   
  
Large hands picked her up, cradling her. She was starting to fade in and out of consciousness.  _The thing must've cut an artery. How else am I bleeding out so fast?_  Somewhere in her lightheaded state, she had enough sense left to murmur 'Spray…' The same hands rummaged in her pockets. She grabbed with blood-slick hands the slippery leather, fighting to stay awake.  
  
 _So warm, haven't felt warm in a while…_  
  
She leaned backward the sound of a spray top popped off the last thing she hears before passing out.   
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
 _So…warm…?_  
  
The prone woman was lifted onto his shoulder finding it easier to carry her through like this. The monster rode up the elevator recalling the buttons she had pushed earlier. The lab was silent again, the Tyrant with the unconscious Jill lying limply in his arms. As the two made it to the van, he sat down on the ground assessing everything. He had taken some incidental damage walking into the nest those 'others' made in the back, but nothing of pressing concern to him. The smell of her blood hanging in the air prompted his quick return. The female was ok; her soft mumbled out words spinning around in his head.  
  
 _So…warm…?_  
  
It confused him. The female then shifted in his lap, curling against him. He sat with her like this, studying the calm look crossing her features.  _Warm. Soft. Strong yet frail._  The notes explained what he was feeling now. What he wanted now. Looking at her makes things so…difficult.  
  
He deeply inhaled her scent, the familiar smell so tempting.   
  
 _No._  
  
His hands opened and closed his fingers biting into his large palms. The motion was a small attempt to calm down, his mind full of new understanding but knowing that her needs were higher at the moment.  _He must wait._  He looked away from her, her face not helping his frustration at all.  
  
He then leaned back, looking up at the sunset for distraction. As the sky bled deeper shades of red and orange, his eye shut closed.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
About 5 hours later three vans showed up at the lab site, sedative guns drawn out. Voices were heard around him. His eyelid slit open, his lone eye rolling as his vision cleared. The woman in his lap was still passed out but breathing. A tall muscular man walked around to them first with a weapon he recognized to hold that filthy liquid. He remembered ripping their number in half, the horrid poison angering him. They had no right to touch him. He thought they had learned from last time. This male's smell and voice was disgustingly familiar. The man looked down at him with loathing in his eyes. His eye silted in deep-seated rage, the feeling mutual. A deep snarl came forth, gripping the female closer to himself.  _Losing her was not an option. These humans were not good enough. Too weak to have her._    
  
The man in front of him spoke.  
  
"Hand her over."  
  
He growled darkly at him, this one, in particular, made his predatory instincts flare wildly.  _No good. Never good._  The smell of that liquid clouds the air. It burns his skin; makes him drowsy. He bares his teeth fully, his anger rising, the urge to kill very tempting especially since the female was asleep now. The man raises his hand up, telling those inferior ones to stand back.  _Good. They reek of fear._  The front man lowers his gun.   
  
"I see she's hurt. Hand her over, boy."  
  
The human down talking him only increased his urge to impale the male's mouth shut, the tentacle itching to slide out of his palm. The female turned in his lap, coughing lightly, her cut arm showing to the light.  _The female would be angry though…wonder if he bloodied them a bit instead?_  The thing on his back bristled with warning but he didn't care. He'd fight through it if he had to.  
  
"…Jill." The man gasped at the large cuts her arm held. "You…you got her out?" The sound of almost disbelief coated the male's voice.  
  
 _Inferior and stupid. This female once found_  that  _worthy?_  He snorted at the male, not impressed. The male's face changed to one of worry, the concern for the unconscious female apparent.   
  
"Please, she'll bleed out if we don't get her help. That first aid spray won't keep forever. Let her go."  
  
He suddenly rose up, cupping the female in his large arms. He stared down the muscular front man, letting his teeth form a deeper grimace. He stood up to his full height causing the other team members to visibly squirm.   
  
"Do we sedate, sir?"  
  
"No. He's not going to hurt her or he would've by now," the man murmured.  _Not so stupid. Will let live a bit longer. The others…undecided._  He growled lowly, the deep baritone unnerving everyone around him.   
  
 _They need to know, this one is his.  
  
 **Only**  his._  
  
"If you not going to let her go at least let her into the van, eh b-buddy?" The Tyrant looked accusingly into the visibly nervous male's eyes. The man had placed his gun on the ground, raising his hands up in surrender motioning for the others to do the same. "Honest, we won't take her away." The B.O.W. licked his teeth, enjoying that the loud male from earlier was now aware of his place like the rest. He starts to walk past the leader, clicking his teeth sharply by the male's head as he walks by with the female in his arms. The male flinched; if the Tyrant could he would've grinned at the reaction. The rest of the squad quickly parted, clearing his path.  _Weak, the whole pack of them._  He walked to the van they previously came in, lowering her gently inside. He slips in behind her shutting the door.   
  
Chris let out a sigh of relief not expecting such an intense standoff. He saw through from all that – the bastard definitely was attached to Jill. No one died, and it looked as if he was protecting her. The paperwork he had planned to send was merely a suggestion; the group still unsure of how to terminate him anyway. He just wanted Jill to be ok. But that look, Christ …that glare looked something fierce, like something from National Geographic.   
  
 _I hope Jill's aware of how he's acting._  
  
The BSAA sat in the driver's seat of the van the two sat in, deciding to bite the bullet and drive with the very hostile beast and the unconscious Jill; the other team members obviously terrified to come within feet of him much less drive around with him in the back seat. Chris could feel the Tyrant's eye burning a hole into the back of his head, the warning clear. The return trip back across the state line to the bunker was one he would rather not in his lifetime repeat.


	9. Teaching the Devil - 8 Lust

**Lust**  
  
She was given a blood transfusion, the blood loss she suffered severe. Jill knew she was lucky, between the licker itself and the loss of blood, if she hadn't been pulled out, she would have died that day. She was out of it for over a few days and decided to finally stretch out her legs. She was happy that Chris backed down on his threat because of the incident, but their previous fight still rang in her mind.  
  
She sat in the white room, still internally seething: this creature – an emotional crutch? He saved her life multiple times now and the ass would say that? She sat for a moment trying to gather her thoughts. She had yet another sleepless night and decided to calm herself down here. She would do this more often then not, as the scrutiny was nonexistent if she came down after hours. The tall creature quietly sat, not seeming to care that for the first time she outwardly seemed out of sorts. She fidgeted with her blue top, the fatigue-style pants billowing over her combat style boots.  
  
She and this beast were in their own fucked up way comfortable around each other; the outside was where people were starting to stare; to question her judgment. At least here it was just him and her. That being said, the monster was still going out of his way to not look directly at her. And it still bothered her that he was doing it days after the fact.  
  
And what Chris described when they tried to take her from him… That kind of behavior was new to her as well. The monster literally had the 2 teams sitting in a stalemate for over an hour coaxing him to give her up…the behavior was blatantly territorial. He never did that before when she observed him? Chris described this as a pressing matter of concern.   
  
As it was when they arrived at the bunker, he insisted on carrying her; again a good 40 minutes before he was convinced to let her go to get aid. Only after the medical crew had come to the van was the monster convinced. Chris had the fun duty of escorting him back to his cell, highly aware that the monster did not like him at all. The thing was, Chris was sure the only reason he wasn't ripped to shreds was partly the inhibitor but mostly Jill.  
  
She came down also to address that…but as she now sat in front of him, couldn't organize her thoughts. ...and he still would not look at her. Jill thought they had gotten over this blatant disrespect a while ago. She didn't know why but this annoyed her worse than when he blatantly did stare at her. At least then she could read him clearly. The events at the lab had him even quieter, barely reacting to anything.   
  
"Why won't you look at me?" She intoned lightly.  
  
He sat unmoving.  
  
"I know you hear me. Why won't you look at me?"   
  
Again silence. She was used to him reacting, moving, but the tall monster just sat as if he was alone. She curtly leaped up from her chair and walked to him. Without thinking she put her hands under his face, forcing him to look up.  
  
"Why won't you look at me?" He merely looked away to the side. She pulls his face back to her, her frustration mounting. "Stop turning away! I ask you to look at me, so  **do**  it!" He looked directly into her eyes; the pupil-less orb that stared up at her did not read anger or even annoyance. It was if he was staring past her. He leaned into her hands, his eye lidding in a look akin to contentment.  
  
"What is it with you? What are you getting at now?" She whispered.   
  
A softer, barely audible growl came from him as he shifted her hands away. The physical registering of pain read on his face. He kept his head down still, but his right hand had started to shakily reach behind him. She knew he tried to take it off before, but she thought he had given up on that long ago. The P30 kept administering more and more shocks upping the dosage, but it did not dissuade the Tyrant's struggle to reach under his trench coat. Not this time. Drool was absently dropping from his mouth; the pain had to be excruciating by now.   
  
She had at this point started to back away from him, his intention to see his operation through apparent. His hand rifled through his own clothing; reaching up under his top shoving past the skirt that sat over top his pants. Meanwhile, he had stood up, crossing the small distance between them. His head was lowered, the wracking pain making him bodily flinch. But he walked still, managing to push her against the wall.   
  
As he got to her an audible tearing sound was heard, him leaning uncomfortably close onto her. One large hand laid to the left of her head, and the other reappeared from his coat, the torn out P30 sitting in his palm. It pulsed slowly like a miniature heart, some of the liquid that filtered from each of its small tubes leaking out on his palm.  
  
He leaned again, in that familiar aggressive stance. Her heart raced, trying to place what he was getting at, why he didn't wish to look at her. He looked up at her now, her reflection clearly in his colorless eye, his lower and upper lid creasing showing small wrinkles in his skin. The intensity she saw within read dangerously, the pupiless orb almost a full-color shade darker than normal screaming of dilation. Past actions ran through her mind: the way he growled at the pack of lickers, the distant look he gave when he thought she wasn't looking, the way he put on a display when he killed that hulk – as if he was displaying his strength, his-  
  
 _Monsters don't…!_  
  
He closed the gap between them physically pining her between the wall and himself. She could feel each buckle, the sound of the leather pressing against her fatigues. The silent understanding that went through her mind… her throat tightened not expecting this. He brought the damaged component closer to her face, letting the back of his hand faintly ghost her face. Then slowly his fingers closed in, crushing it in his large palm. Jill could hear the small thing crunch with finality in her ear. She looked at his eye, his intent all too clear; him too damn close to want anything else. He turned his right hand over, letting the mangled pieces of the destroyed contraption fall to the floor. She could feel him breathing in her scent, his now empty right hand landing beside her head. His eye was now a narrow slit; she could feel him with each passing moment getting more worked up. His breathing was slow and deep, almost akin to heavy panting.   
  
He pressed his forehead onto hers, a small, almost barely audible noise coming from him. It wasn't a noise to intimidate or cause fear; it was small, higher pitched than normal. It was more a keening sound, a sound that sang of want; need. She could see everything as he saw it now – how he saw every action, every word that she directed towards him over time. Her hands hovered close to her legs, he pinning his massive hands on each side of her face. Neither of them dared to lose eye contact with the other. This was different than the other times he pinned her – this time he wasn't going to hold back. This time he had no reason to.  
  
They were in a standoff now – waiting to see who would move first.   
  
Seconds, minutes rolled by.   
  
A shift of movement on his end in pressing closer; a shift on hers trying to pull away. He merely pressed on her closer, forcing her to see, to feel what her mere presence does to him. His face was in her hair, she could feel him softly rustling the strands with his face.   
  
He leaned forward to his right, his head leaning on to the wall next to her. She felt breathing ghost on her nape, the small insistent growl from his throat making her tremble. She shifted more to her right again trying to pull away. Her body was taut, the feeling of being backed into a wall overwhelming.  
  
He started to move his left hand to keep her head from moving away any further.  
  
  
She pushed him.  
  
  
He reached to grab her back to him.   
  
She slid to the floor, dodging him, his tall form hitting wall. She started to turn, making her way to the door but felt his hand wrap around her right ankle. The padding softened her fall, but that meant nothing, she needed to get out, now. She kicked back with her free foot, earning a grunt from the Tyrant. She knew she could not outfight him, nor outrun him. But damn it if she wasn't going to try. The door was right there, and yet she knew he had no intention of letting her out.   
  
Reasoning with him now was not going work; he was too far gone. Feeling him that close, seeing him this intense told her this much. She felt him bodily yank her back pulling her under him. She futilely slapped him across the face, earning only a snarl. Her breathing became labored, heated with the exertion. She twisted her legs upward kicking him in the shoulder, knowing it wasn't going to hurt him but it brought her precious distance from him. He angrily hissed at her, desperate to pull her back. Suddenly the small space she gained was nullified as he literally leapt on top of her, trying to pin her down. His movement was, however, slower than normal.  
  
 _The shocks must've slowed his reaction time._  
  
Jill took advantage of this and shouldered him, refusing to give up. Her hands were at her sides one straining to reach just a bit further down. He pushed his large hands on her shoulders, forcing her flat on the floor. She could feel breathing, then teeth trying at her top. He then groaned in new found pain as he felt a sharp kick to the groin, the blow stunning him before another sharp pinch was felt digging into his side. The monster suddenly felt extremely drowsy, unnaturally so. The lid of his eye fluttered slowly the monster trying to fight but losing the war in keeping consciousness, slight confusion breaking him out of his desperate bid.  His form began to slump bodily on top of her, his head slumped against her neck his much taller form sprawled out haphazardly between her legs. The sharp canines of his teeth lay dangerously close to her throat, the look of utmost need the last thing reflected on his face before he passed out.   
  
She pushed with all her might tossing him to his side. She saw him slump back unresponsive; taking the opportunity the Invidia gave her she got up to the door. She shakily swiped her ID card, running out of the room and slamming the door behind her closed. She slumped down against the harder floor, not even trying to mask her feelings now. She felt scared, confused, and angry at herself for letting it go that far. She curled up in a ball, angrier at herself than him. Angry at herself for ignoring the blatant signs. Angry that her pride almost got her in a world of hurt.  
  
  
 _He saw her as a prospective mate.  
  
She didn't know that was how he was reading her actions.   
  
  
Didn't she?_  
  
  
Of all the maelstrom of feelings she felt at that moment, the same murky unclear one tried to surface, it demanding to be heard, questioning her honesty in dealing with him. They were not as dark as the ones from her past, but the thoughts bothered just as deeply. So again they were squashed as lunacy, as insanity coming from a broken mind.   
  
She held herself close feeling her body uncontrollably shaking, but funny enough not a single thought of that dead man came in. Not a single thought came in to tell her how dirty or useless or useable she was. Not even her time with Chris prevented the dead man's voice. But here the thoughts that came were strange, disordered. Comforting.  
  
She had barely stopped herself from visibly shaking as soft panting was heard through the door. Jill could almost feel him leaning onto the closed door, pawing it, softly banging against it. The soft noise turned into a loud, guttural, angry roar that rang through the door, the sound traveling down the narrow hallway. The sounds of metal being twisted, being tossed could be heard; he was destroying the meager furniture in the room in a fit of pure fury.   
  
The shrill scraping of metal and the fabric coverings being torn to shreds could be heard before hearing the item being beaten across the walls. The room seemed to shake with the pain that was held inside. Then it seemed as if he was bodily finding anything and everything that he could in the padded room to destroy as his fit went on for it seemed hours. She sat partly waiting him out, partly to gain some sense of clarity, holding onto an unintended memento – a torn buckle off his trench coat.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………   
  
She had eventually gone to bed, needing to get out of there. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, seeing no real bruises save for the one on her right ankle. She got the feeling that he partly was trying to be gentle as he could. But that didn't change the fact that he tried to…  
  
Tried to…  
  
For most of the day, she debated on going back down to the corridor. But stubborn pride dictated that he was her student; he was her problem. Jill took a sedative gun with her, just in case. She tentatively stopped at the padded room, trying to mask the sense of dread she felt in seeing what state that room would be in. Dreading what state he would be in.  
  
She opened the door, the white room now no longer worthy of carrying such a name. The white color had now visible patches of silver, dirt, rock and purple mixed together as if a hurricane took part in painting it. The bed and chair were unrecognizable heaps; the parts ripped to shreds and stabbed inches into various portions of the room. The room itself faired no better, the padding in many places ripped through the thick metal underneath – a feat as the padding themselves were supposed to be super reinforced to prevent revealing the metal underneath. A broken pile of glass that used to be the syringe that held Invidia within it was found, having been probably the first thing the monster in his rage grabbed - shattered against the wall.  
  
The Tyrant himself sat slumped in a corner, showing actual damage to his coat where he was so focused on destruction that it was torn in places aside from her own pulling off of one of the buckles. Places in the room had droplets of purple blood, his frustration so intense that he was literally hurting himself in his rage. He sat with his head bowed down, not bothering to sit up.  
  
She closed the door tentatively walking towards the creature. The way he sat, it was almost  _heartbreaking_. Jill steeled her resolve standing in front of him. She lightly kicked his left foot, hoping he'd react. He barely moved. She kicked at him again, garnering no reaction. She began to turn away from him when suddenly his right hand lightly grabbed her stray one. He softly stroked it, and as quickly as he touched her, let go.  
  
Her body trembled, the touch light, faint. It was so unlike the ones from past creatures of his ilk, even he himself had ever been. This gesture – terrified her more than any bruise. She turned herself bodily back around, pointing the gun back at him. Her voice; how she had to work to find it…but it came out, soft yet cold-  
  
"You are a means to an end. You are no more, no less. You follow my lead and follow my directions.  _Regardless of what you want_.   
  
Do not  **ever**  touch me again. Or I will find a way to  **dispose**  of you. Understand?"  
  
…  
  
Memories bled into her mind then, a glimmer of red and gold eyes fueling her already broken resolve…eyes that no longer lived and yet bore within still. Eyes that fueled her fury at one who presently sat with an eye of white. Her mind and voice jointly screamed.  
  
"UNDERSTAND!?"  
  
An almost indecipherable nod came from the creature. She looked down at him, her gaze hardening before turning on her heel and leaving him in that mess of a room. As she walked out she felt that pained feeling within, knowing that the nature of things between them was irrevocably altered. She feared for everything deep within. Feared him not for his violence…  
  
 _Could she, did she even believe her own declaration just now?_  
………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
A week later a mission came up in Arizona; supposedly a hotbed of black market B.O.W. trading; traders met up for business in the large desert areas often, BSAA scouts had reported. The mission was noted for the confirmed use of B.O.W. as well as rampant rogue monsters running loose as a result of the unrestricted sales. This caused havoc on nearby communities not prepared for such creatures.  
  
The group found the mission well suited to Jill and her 'pet Tyrant'. And since it seemed that the B.O.W. was still willing to cooperate without the P30, Jill accepted the mission. She didn't mention this fact to the others, finding it better they not know. She took many risks with this one, risks and concessions she could never explain to herself. She didn't even mention his latest attempt on her. And now she was in the middle of the desert with limited contact with the bunker with a creature she wasn't 100% sure she could trust anymore with her own safety. They were given coordinates to the location and to a small shed that they could make a base in.  
  
And now they were both stuck in the desert, with an incoming storm front holed up in this abandoned shack for shelter.  _Great._  She looked over at the B.O.W., who had taken to sitting on a side bench by the sand coated window, the monster quiet and morose. But he did not hide his eye, still looking her over.   
  
"What do you see that is all that fascinating about me?" She had quietly asked.  
  
She received no response other than him staring back at her. His constant staring did not scare her as much as frustrate her. She knew what he was more than likely imagining; but it was more that he did not act on it. She expected him to. Why would he need to behave? All incentive for him to do so he destroyed. She stared at him back her anger growing.  
  
They sat like this for a good long while, the silence deafening; until Jill could take it no longer. "What, you damn freak? What is it? I'm hateful, spiteful, and mean to you, yet you still hang on! Do you ever wonder why; why I hate you so much?  
  
"… _You_  brought all this misery on me years after the fact. You couldn't just kill me outright like normal monsters; you had to give me a slow death sentence one in which I was studied, prodded,  _used_  …I- I have every right to despise you! And yet…you sit there dumbly holding on. Why?!" The Tyrant again sat on the small bench, looking but otherwise letting her go on with her tirade.  
  
"People think I'm going crazy, spending so much time with you. Talking to you like you  **mean anything**. In fact, why are you even still here? What's keeping you? Your collar is gone you made certain of it. Are you waiting for an act of God to say 'hmm maybe I can go do what the fuck ever monsters do in their spare time?' I mean I'm all alone here, you could kill me, do whatever you wanted of me…isn't that what you wanted in the first place?"  
  
He sat, again not responding. Not a sound, not a movement.   
  
That is until she was standing over him, her palms on either side of his head. Her hoarse voice had dropped to a whisper. "You made it clear you wished to kill me when you tore that picture. You made it perfectly clear you would do anything to get at me. Well, I'm right in your damn face just like you used to do to me. Now, are you going to do something about it?"  
  
The Tyrant at this looked up at her, looked into her blue eyes on the verge of breaking. He kept his hands at his sides, the knuckles just like their first meeting turning white. But unlike every other day, he stayed his hand.   
  
"You. Fucking. Bastard." She softly hissed. "Do. Something. Anything. Don't get my hopes up…Hurt me, attack me, do something!" the woman screamed. Her voice rose with the winds outside, rising into a high pitched roar. Jill was shaking now, visibly angry, unnerved, and above all frustrated. She thought she understood this beast – but the late realization had dawned on her that she had never understood him truly at all.   
  
That inky, black violent rage boiled to the surface again; the rage of helplessness, of indignant justice, of one who wanted but could never have true control over anything or  _anyone_  – lashed out. One fist, then another, and another after; a flurry landed on the black expanse of his trench coat.  
  
Jill pushes him, beating her fists futilely against him. This provoked one reaction from him. He laid his hands palms up and to the sides of himself. No strike, no crushing of her skull. Just acceptance. She wanted him to hurt her. Expected him to.  _Monsters hurt people; that's all they exist for!_  Something, anything!  _Why won't you kill me!?_  She was hitting him freely;  _Why do you let me hurt you?!_  the woman screaming, screaming at ghosts in her mind.  _Stop touching me!?_  Screaming words she wished he could hear.  _I'm not your whore, Wesker!!_  How her eyes brimmed with pain, long neglected pain.  _I'm not…not…_  Screaming; and then softly quieting, knowing that this one in front of her did no such things.  _He's dead. Dead. Dead._  
  
The storm outside raged on, spiking in its intensity. The winds whipped across the little shack that stood rebelling against it. The winds howled, kicking up more of the Arizona sands. She shoved him again, only hearing a soft grunt. Jill felt tired, so damn tired, wishing for once he could talk. Wishing he could tell her why, why he is acting like this. Why is he taking this from her? He must know must be fully aware that he doesn't have to put up with her anymore.  _I wish you could talk…  
  
Easy to abuse, easy to yell at.   
  
Comforting despite it all._  
  
She leans in her attacks growing weaker with the exertion. Her anger, her fears, and her sorrows needed an outlet. She could do no more to him and sank onto his clothed shoulder breaking down completely, letting the tears come. He merely sat there, not providing the clear answer she wanted. But leaning on him was enough. Her much smaller form curled against this steadily breathing giant allowing her to drop her mask and let herself go. Let herself let all the anger and hatred out. She couldn't recall herself having a good cry since it seemed her own P30 was ripped off. Back then she cried for the people she hurt, killed. For the lives she allowed by either her actions or by the use of her body to be killed or hurt. But never for herself. She just couldn't; Jill Valentine didn't deserve to be mourned.  
  
But now she cried openly just for herself, the unhappiness she felt for everything and everyone brimming to the surface. The hurt she felt towards herself. And he sat there, looking down at her. The look that was now on that lipless bastard was one that she would never forget for the rest of her days…  
  
 _Monsters do not understand remorse._


	10. Teaching the Devil - 9 Limbo

**Limbo**  
  
The two left the small shack later in the afternoon, proceeding on with their mission. The two were quiet, but not from discomfort; more from the fact that the need for verbal communication was lessened. That sense of comfort was between them again, the two finally reaching an unspoken understanding. Her feeling of trust in the world – that feeling she missed sorely since Africa had seemed to creep back into her mind if only a little. If she could trust this bastard, there was hope for the others; even Chris. She pushed her musing aside, the mission they came out here for first on her mind.  
  
Jill looked at the coordinates; the notes she was given mention that around this time traders would begin to filter into this area. She had the Tyrant hold back a few feet away behind a larger outcropping farther from the camp, his larger form harder to hide. Jill instructed him to stay in his spot there, till she signaled. She pulls out a pair of high powered binoculars from her far position by a cluster of rocks. So far she spotted three trucks, nothing large on them save for a few cages. Probably doing a money drop and trading the contraband in a different location. The men though were well armed, with high powered rifles, and a few sedative guns. The cages behind them belied that there was some 'sample' creatures on board for sale or display.  
  
It made her sick to the core how men could still deal in death like this. She lowered herself down, the vantage point at times getting lost as the wind would kick up, leftovers from the storm last night. She began to shift her stance when a larger piece of rock slid from under her. She slipped but recovered her footing. But the noise was enough; two men began to walk towards her position.  _Shit_. She began to dig for a weapon of her own when a commotion was heard from afar.   
  
 _No…I told him to stay!_  
  
She looked up to see him standing in front of the camp, as an obvious distraction. But what was odd was that he did not attack…did not do so much as raise an arm. Jill deeply regretted now telling him her previous directives. He was only doing what he was told for her sake.  _Why **now**  would he follow her words to the letter?_ The men circled him like wolves, at first thinking of shooting him down, but one shouted to the rest; they shot sedatives, pumping the fool full of Invidia. Within seconds he was barely functioning, and then slumped over stone cold unconscious, the sheer amount of darts shot into him making a criss-cross pattern of yellow over his dark form.  
  
Jill merely leaned her head into her arms, angry at those bastards.   
  
 _I will get him out of there.  
  
BSAA never leave a B.O.W. behind._  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Jill knew she was on her own now, the feeling reminiscent of the old days, where there were no teams, just one's self against an angry world and the man-made hell that was created. But this time she ironically is saving him, not running from him. She waited till nightfall, luck on her side as the number of men stayed the same. It seemed that they were waiting around for more people and that they were running late. The sound of yipping from the cages told her that the B.O.W.s they brought were simple Cerberuses, nothing too daunting to worry about.    
  
They were all sitting behind the trucks, lights on illuminating the Arizona landscape. The camped out area was beside more outcroppings such as rocks and brush, giving Jill meager cover. The Tyrant sat behind them, the men not feeling like staring at him. She lowered herself between one truck, feet away from him. She looked up at him, the monster unresponsive. His eye fluttered open in a strange REM sleep, the eyelid showing wild movement. His mouth gaped open, absently drooling. She could hear him breathing, deeper than normal. What troubled her more was the fact that even at this distance he would have reacted to her presence. This only showed her how out of it he was. Sitting a bit to his side with his back turned was a squat, short man who seemed to twitch every so often. The man was smoking something questionable but was obviously meant to keep watch over him. But he was too busy lighting up something in a glass pipe to really do a great job of it.  
  
This was not good at all. There was no way she could physically carry him much less without drawing attention. What made it worse were the industrial chains and handcuffs that he was bound with. Alone without sedatives, they would be little more than paper; but in his drugged out state they might as well be indestructible. She scooted forward to discern the make of the cuffs when the solid click of a trigger popped behind her. The cold barrel of a shotgun was aimed directly at her head.  
  
"Look what the wind dropped in. A bitch in the sand." A built stocky man with a cowboy hat and a smile full of rotten teeth stared down at her. Jill flashed him a dirty look but raised her hands up in surrender. A taller, gangly man walked up to his side giving a whistle at her.   
  
"Seems them spies get hotter and hotter, or is it dumber and dumber, eh Gramps?" The stocky man laughs.   
  
"I dunno, Mar but this must be our lucky day. Having that ugly sonava' bitch over there land into our camp, then a BSAA; life is good". The man swigs back a mouthful of beer. Three other men show up, two of them look related to the other, probably twins. All stringy and greasy looking as if their diet was nothing more than beer and meth. The non-twin she recognized as the one from the stoop, he looked even shorter up-close and was cover in the tale-tale signs of constant drug abuse, his skin especially around his arms full of track marks. One laughs, "Well she wanted to crash our party; why not let her join. She's so cute too!" The one on the left gropes her blond hair through his grimy fingers. Jill's skin crawls as she swats his hand away. Her thoughts shifted; painfully so.  
  
 _I take their pain, I take their hurt as a doll that's all I've always done.  
  
I could fight back, but why? I have a cross to bear, don't I?_  
  
"Hey! A guest should always be polite to their hosts!" With that 'Gramps' backhands her, causing a heavy line of blood as the strike causes her lip to cut on her teeth. The other twin pulls on her ponytail wanting a grope. She wasn't going to be hurt like this.  _Please, not again_. She does a leap forward, shouldering the left most twin to the side making a beeline to the sedate B.O.W. The men laugh at this, the five unaware that she came for him.  
  
 _I've  
  
'Oh, it's -you- again. His bed warmer. Creatures like you are such lowly things. I almost think you -like- this sort of treatment. Better you than me I suppose.'_  
  
"Aww, it seems our guest wants to check out our find." The twin that was knocked to the side rushed forward striking her side with the butt of his gun. She felt the side burn like fire with renewed pain; experience told her that was not just going to form a dark bruise but that internal damage is likely. The five laugh at the woman struggling to continue. One twin threw a half-empty beer at her, the blond crawling in pain towards her target of great amusement. The can hit her on the back of her head, her hair becoming coated in beer, and possible red from the cut it caused. She notes despite her suffering small movement from the Tyrant. He was in some function awake…she hoped he was awake enough for both their sakes. Both as reality was being-  
  
 _'It's a shame too. A Gionne would never lower one's self to such a thing. We'd never wear our flaws with such pride. Then again our beauty over shines such depravity.'_  
  
"What a boring spy," Mar pipes, "let's just shoot her. We may get even more money along with that thing over there. Never seen anything like it." Mar walks towards Jill, until she pulls her hand up, jingling the lead chain connecting the others, keeping the monster restrained. "Ut ohs she's gunna wake him up." The pipe smoker piped up.  _'Look at you! Laying there like a pose-able doll!' Shrill, yet accented laughter echoed in Jill's ears._  It then started to become deeper, masculine...the men start to laugh hard, not in any hurry to kill her, finding her antics amusing. "Little beauty's gunna' wake up the beast…too bad that beasts eat little girls." Another round of laughs from the crowd grated against her ears.  She slid against him, leaning against his chest. She could still hear his steady breathing; she nearly wanted to cry, he's still out.  
  
 _Please…please don't…  
  
I can't separate what's real if  
  
Fuc-_  
  
She barely caught the small indecipherable twitch in his left hand. A movement so small that if you weren't up on him, one would not notice it at all. Her hands circled around him in a sort of bear hug causing, even more, laughter from the drunken peanut gallery behind her.  _The monsters are everywhere but here. Safety. Please grant me safety like in that dream._  She leans in his nape hoping desperately that he could hear her now, whispering:  
  
"…please be awake…  
  
Do what you want with them…  
  
Nemesis."   
  
The group meanwhile was laughing hard at this display. "This woman's is leaning up on it like some sort of date! I know what we should do!" Mar pipes up. "Let's do like those bastards in Mexico. Have us a little donkey show. I bet this hot bitch wouldn't mind!" Another round of drunken laughter filled the Arizona air. Jill stands up, her body tired and bruised. The woman could only reply, "I bet that's the only way you can get close to a woman at all, watching animals get some instead."  
  
"Cunt has a mouth on her. Guessin' it's time to put ya down ole gal." the built man hissed, the insult not endearing her to him. As he begins to aim his rifle, Jill merely lifts up her hands. Her palms open, tumbling out a few choice bolts and screws.   
  
"Girl…where those come from?" A twin tentatively asks.  
  
She nods nonchalantly back towards the prone B.O.W., "Oh I borrowed 'em from him. I figured he wouldn't mind." Behind her, the Tyrant stood to his full height, that well known manic gleam back in his eye.   
  
 _I was allowing him to play now._  
  
The phrase "Wha- what the fuck-!" was uttered by someone, the men that surrounded them both collectively trying to get a grip on the situation. But the only tactic they managed was to scatter in panic.  
  
The twin that had decided the end of a gun belonged in Jill's side suddenly had a new addition into his body; a tentacle had taken residence into his neck, it spearing through his neck like butter. The impaled twin could only make wet sounds his voice box and whatever constituted his neck destroyed yet held together by the 'plug' in his neck. He had the look of suffocation on his features; the tentacle merely slid neatly out of the man's ruined neck just to return through his forehead earning the dusting of gore on the ground beneath his still flinching corpse. Then with a simple flick, the body was discarded to the side as little more than trash.   
  
 _Look at them...look at them scatter. TriCell...I won't let you get away with this. I can play unfair too._  
  
The other twin reached to grab a sedative gun, but Jill grabbed the gun off of the dead twin's corpse and aimed. Her shot blasted through the palm of his hand, ruining any chance of him ever using the appendage again. This was followed by the Tyrant grabbing the terrified man by the shoulders, licking his exposed sharp teeth in glee. The man could only cringe before the Tyrant viciously headbutt the man, the sheer force cracking the unfortunate's skull open like an egg. Brain matter and skull fragments burst over the monster's face giving his already unnerving face a deep spattering of burgundy to go along with it.   
  
The squat man from the stoop meanwhile had managed to hide out from the initial slaughter and decided to take a desperate chance. He grabbed Jill from behind as a hostage, placing a double-barreled shotgun to her head. The man had the look of pure panic on his face. He pulled back on Jill's long hair, his hand gripping the gun to it like it was the only thing keeping him sane. "Why, you bitch? Why? It'll kill us all…it'll…monsters kill people you dumb shit!" He screamed in her ear, his voice jittery with fear and intoxication. She stayed silent, not bothering to dignify him with an answer other than a look of pure and utter disinterest. The monster walked to the man, the shaking assailant raising the barrel closer to her temple.   
  
 _The haughty woman with the cold smile; she'd hold my head just like this. But I'm not afraid anymore. He'll wipe them all away and justice will return._  
  
With a speed she couldn't even follow, the Tyrant had the barrel pointed upwards. Then in what Jill could only see as a mocking gesture, watched as the Tyrant lowered the barrel towards himself, sliding it into his mouth. Then almost coldly he stood there, waiting for the man to grow a pair daring the man to attack. The twitching man screamed, "You want me to shoot…! I'll shoot your damn brains out...I will!" He pushed Jill out of the way, both his hands onto the gun, trying to will himself to fire his drug-addled arms shaking profusely. The Tyrant just stared with amusement, perversely letting his long tongue almost flick out around the gun's barrel even biting down on to it steadying the man's aim. Whether it was fear or intoxication, the man never pulled the trigger. He just stood there, letting his chance slip by.  
  
A deep unnerving sound came forth from around the barrel, a laugh deep and inhuman. The man lost whatever nerve he had managed to muster, just standing there idiotically like a caught deer. As the man merely looked up at Fate; Fate decided that he was tired of calling the man's bluff and wrapped two tentacles around his neck. The tentacles squeezed tighter and tighter the man turning various shades none of them which would fit on a healthy person. The gun loosened from his hand, the Tyrant pulling his head back forcing the man's weak hands to let go letting the shotgun slide harmlessly out of his mouth.   
  
By the time the gun itself had hit the ground, the audible popping of bone on the man's neck could be heard along with the ripping of skin. The tentacles coiled still - tightening so that the skin of the very dead man's neck had started to rip and tear. Then with a jerk, the head was ripped from the prone body in a sudden and decidedly messy removal. The body fell to the ground a foot away from the detached head. The Tyrant looked towards Jill; the now detached head was picked up with his left hand, holding it up. She understood his meaning behind it.  
  
The woman smiled genuinely for the first time for anyone or anything in a long, long time. It was a genuine smile that was both for him and for an emotion she though her past took from her. But aside from that, her eyes distantly looked on as if she wasn't here.  
  
'Gramps' and Mar were the only two left. The two were mortified by the display both scattering to defend themselves against an increasingly daunting foe. The Tyrant tossed the detached head at them, seeing the two targets left. The head splattered crimson along the roof of the grouped trucks. Mar hid behind the furthest one in the midst of starting a shootout with the BSAA. A dark almost pleased growl came from the monster, his enjoyment of the slaughter without question. That was the only warning before the rightmost truck was lifted clear off the ground the monster punting it directly on top of Mar. The sound of bone and flesh was only heard, as the man was crushed instantly.  
  
'Gramps' was the last man standing, all bravado flying out the window as his friends now all lay dead. He had also hidden behind the trucks but was planning a different strategy. "Fuck the BSAA, fuck you, fuck 'it', fuck all!" The man yowled out in a drunken yet panicked slur. Suddenly, reality came back like a vacuum to her. The panicking man walked out carrying a few layers of C4, intending to take everyone out. "I'll take you both out, you sick fucks!" His sweaty hand was over a red switch, connected to myriad wires connecting the bombs together that covered him like a coat.   
  
Jill backed up, the man clearly disturbed to go this far. The mentally off man edged closer to Jill, taunting "C'mon, let's dance bitch! It'll be like a hot date night! Don't let a few bombs stop ya!" He starts to walk forward teasing her with his finger on the trigger.   
  
She aims her gun at him, "Put it down."  
  
"Fuck that, you'll kill me. Besides, I ain't going back to no jail, not for nobody. Nobody locks up ole' Gramps; Gramps plays fo' keeps!"  
  
"If you surrender I promise you will be sent into custody."  _She couldn't fathom a person going this far. Could she?_    
  
"Riiight. I'd rather not pussy out…I'ma going to just run like this!" He rushed across the sand, intent on having her in the blast radius. Jill could only suck in a breath, the real threat of incoming death washing over her - before a strong hand pulled her back, then pushing her a few feet away before a large explosion rocked the sands.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Jill awoke to her hearing slowly returning the blast still occurring very close to her. The vans were scattered in messy metal heaps across the sands. A splatter around the sandy area where he last stood was all that remained of 'Gramps'. She herself could feel a few cuts and internal bruises from the blast.  _She should have died…_ But what was more pressing was the sinkhole that the explosion had inadvertently caused. The Tyrant was hanging by his left and only attached arm, the blast destroying the other and a chunk of his right torso. His top coat was in tatters; his pants barely there at all. If he were human like the rest he would have met the same fate as dear old 'Gramps'. Both human and Tyrant were very dangerously close to the edge. As Jill realized where she was she began to try and gain a finger hold in the slipping sands. But in trying to move her body started to quickly slide closer to the deep gap, not away.   
  
She strained further, trying desperately to fight gravity when a tentacle from Nemesis grabbed her. It hooked around her waist, keeping her from the deep drop below. He wasn't exactly in a great spot himself, his taller form halfway over the edge. She wasn't heavy as much as he having to move was causing him to shift further in. He lifted her up slowly, the higher he raised her up the more he slid. It was readily apparent that no matter how he moved he could only do one thing or the other.  
  
She realized what he was going to do, silently shaking her head. She had convinced herself after him getting caught that she was not going home without him. She near silently pleaded with him, "We've had this talk…about listening right?" The two started to slide further, the drop looking extremely deep. "Don't do it." He merely closed his eye, before tossing her out onto the sand. She rolled through the toss, finding herself on solid ground. But she pushed herself closer to where the Tyrant hung determination in her eyes.  
  
"No…no, damnit no! I didn't go through all that for nothing!" She began to reach forward careful of the edge. She could only get three of his fingers into her much smaller hand. He was too heavy. She wanted to believe that could lift him, but the reality was hitting her hard. Her mind was screaming, panicking. She couldn't give up…He shook his head at her. "Jump up…u-use a tentacle or something…let me get help; j-jus-just stay!" She started to rattle off random ideas knowing that if they were workable he would have done them already. Another head shake in the negative. "Damn it, you do what I say, don't you understand that…you do what I ask…I won't let you fall!" Her voice was starting to pitch higher showing her anxiety. But Jill didn't care about showing weakness, not now. He tilted his head up, the right side burned around his eye, covered in blood, sweat, and sand but still full of depth and understanding. Knowing how this could only end. He again told her, no.  
  
"Shut up, you stupid bastard. Reach. Reach up damn you!"  
  
The sink hold behind him looked deep, looming and unending in the light. She didn't know if anyone could survive such a drop – in trying to pull him, she had begun to slide back in with him. He shook his head again. She tried to hold on…she felt his hand loosening. "Stop it! …don't you dare… _Don't_ -!" Her voice came out a shriek now, her eyes pleading not demanding. One finger stroked hers….before he fully let go.   
  
Jill dropped back on the sand, a part of her pretending that his weight in her hands was still there. She lay back into the sand, anguish framing her face, silence her only company.


	11. Teaching the Devil - Epilogue

**Epilogue**  
  
\- 2 months later -  
  
  
As she finishes packing her things for the airport, she gazes at the torn buckle. She begins to leave, but senses as if someone was watching her. She turns her face registering a look of sadness yet a small glimmer of hope. But all she sees is shadows; nothing of importance. She had come to accept that he was lost in the sands. Despite the hope that the tough monster made it out, she knew holding onto false hope was not healthy in the long run. So like the bunker, she would have to leave him as well behind.   
  
She pockets the small torn piece of leather and metal and walks out of her empty office/living quarters. She looks at the bunker one last time before she climbs into the car. She looks towards the bunker from the small car, and for a second there, thought she saw a larger shadow move from the side of the building. She took in a deep breath, telling her mind that holding on was not going to bring him back. The car roars to life, the former BSAA closing this chapter of her life.  
  
After the events of the last couple of months, Jill came to the conclusion that she needed to walk away. Her mind was scarred by war and needed to be free of it. A part of her thought it a selfish decision, but deep down she felt it was right. Josh had already returned to Africa, his tenure of leadership over. Chris had taken up the mantle; Jill was happy for him and knew the place would be in good hands. After clearing it with Chris she was arranged to travel to some undisclosed place in the US. She called this her 'retirement'; allowing herself to live again.   
  
She is seen later in the day on a plane, reading  _Antigone_.  
  
'...No man can tell What has come stealthily creeping over his life Until too late Hot ashes and pain...'   
  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
– 3 years later –  
  
  
Jill sat outside of a well-furnished home, filled with creature comforts within a gated neighborhood. Her life as an operative ended that day she boarded the plane. She watched out of the corner of her eye the three outside playing and laughing. They looked like the all American family. She herself was reading a book on world deities, finding the topic fun reading as of late. She lounged back in a large chair, enjoying the warm air from outside.  
  
Chris and Sheva were outside playing hide and seek with an overactive 2 1/2-year-old. The girl was lifted over her head, laughing a cute bell-like laugh as Chris lifted her up over his broad shoulders.   
  
"I'm flyiiiin!" The girl squealed. Her dark brown pigtails swayed with the direction he ran them in, the yellow ribbons tying them fluttering along matching the girl's currently stained yellow dress. Even her small patent black shoes were dirty.   
  
"Gasp!" Sheva teased. "We've only been outside for 10 minutes and already you're dirty!"   
  
"Dirt loves little girls, just like the tickles!" Chris lightly teased the little girl, her bright blue eyes glimmering, her small body twisting in a pure giggle fit. He releases her, the child hugging him, then Sheva deeply.  
  
"Little girl you tire me out!" Sheva teases. She ruffles the girl's hair, a bit curly from all the roughhousing.  
  
The book Jill was reading was opened to a dog-eared passage, one that she returned to every so often. The section was dealing with the pantheon of the Greeks, the image at first causing her to do a double take. The page depicted a tall woman, her hair braided in a bun. She wore flowing robes and sandals like those in her time, but what stood out most was the depiction of the white wings and the bloodied sword.  
  
'Winged balancer of Fortune's wheel; giving those their just due. But woe to any who disturbed Fortune's balance, for Her justice is merciless. Those that dare boast of their crimes, the implacable one will mete out one's just deserts as She is one from whom there is no escape.'  
  
Jill leans up from her book, hearing the sound of the patio door being pushed open. The small child runs into the house standing in front of Jill. The woman grins at the girl, "Need some water, girly girl?" The child shakes her head. The woman turns then, deciding that she at least needed a glass, the day was long and hot. She began to yell outside, wondering if Chris or Sheva would like anything, but was interrupted by the small grunt from the rambunctious girl. The little one was straining to reach a book on a shelf out of her reach. In her excitement, the child jostles on the nearby side table a framed picture of the former BSAA, Chris, Sheva, and the small girl, all in a small group portrait. She tries to move out of the way, the edge of the frame leaning onto her, the sharp edge causing a light scrape.  
  
The girl whimpers, the cut on her pale arm visible. Tears start to form around her large bright eyes, the color of them fainter than earlier. Jill pulls the girl to her, cooing into her ear. "Girly girl got a little cut, huh?" The girl nodded. "Well," Jill softly whispered, "Let me blow that cut right off. Wanna see?" The girl sniffled then giggled as Jill blew across the tiny arm. The cut, a shallow one still, started to close, the skin neatly knitting itself shut. Within seconds it was if it was never there.  
  
"See little girl? All better." She ruffles the girl's already messy hair.   
  
"Thanky Momma," the girl breathed, the brightness returning to her eyes. She looked up at the woman with long blonde hair like she was the whole world.  
  
"Be careful next time, Sia. Getting hurt makes Momma worry you know. And no running in the house!"  
  
"Yes, Momma." The girl looks down, but with that mischievous smile forming on her face. The smile was toothy, edging on predatory; the grin a bit uncanny still to the woman.   
  
"Little girl, you make it so hard to stay mad at you." She hugs her deeply the girl squealing in delight. The woman straightens the child's yellow dress tsk-ing it already messy after being outside for merely a few minutes.   
  
She reaches up to the shelf the child was aiming for, pulling out a book. It was the child's favorite text –  _Where the Wild Things Are_. It was a pre bedtime ritual reading the book to her; the bookmark that sat in between the worn pages was pulled out, placing the item in the child's small hands. "Looking for this little girl?" The girl happily nods. The large buckle dwarfs the girl's hands, but Jill could see the soft happiness on her face. Jill hadn't mentioned anything about it yet to her, but she already could see the unspoken attachment the girl had to it.   
  
"Let's go play a game with your Auntie and Uncle, eh Sia?" Jill chuckles against the little girls face. The child smiles and places the torn piece back inside the book. After placing it back on the shelf, she lifts the small girl in her arms and heads outside to enjoy the warm air with Chris and Sheva.  
  
She hugs the little girl, fortune smiling on her through the eyes of a child.

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my dA under the same name originally in 2010.


End file.
